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IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 


IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

BY 

JOHN    KENDRICK    BANGS 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
E.    M.     ASHE 


NEW  YORK 
R.  H.  RUSSELL  &  SON 

MDCCCXCII 


COPYRIGHT,  1892. 
BY  JOHN  KFNDRICK 


TO 

RUSSELL 


M54122 


'B 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   START. 

R-R-R-RUB-  A-DUB-DUB !  Br-r-r-rub-a- 
dub-a-dub-dub !  Br-r-r-rub-adub-dub-a-dub- 
dub-a-dub-dub!" 

"What's  that?"  cried  Jimmieboy,  rising  from 
his  pillow  on  the  nursery  couch,  and  looking 
about  him,  his  eyes  wide  open  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"What's  what?"  asked  mamma,  who  was  sit- 
ting near  at  hand,  knitting  a  pair  of  socks  for 
a  small  boy  she  knew  who  would  shortly  want 
them  to  keep  his  feet  warm  when  he  went  off 
coasting  with  his  papa. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  soldiers  going  by,"  returned 
Jimmieboy,  climbing  up  on  the  window-sill  and 
gazing  anxiously  up  and  down  the  street.  "  There 
were  drums  playing." 

"I  didn't  hear  them,"  said  mamma.  "I  guess 
you  imagined  it.  Better  lie  down  again,  Jimmie- 


10  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

boy,  and  rest.  You  will  be  very  tired  when  papa 
gets  home,  and  you  know  if  you  are  tired  you'll 
have  to  go  to  bed  instead  of  taking  supper  with 
hinvaiid  that  would  be  too  bad  on  his  birth- 
day," 

"is  papa  really  going  to  have  a  birthday 
to-day?"  queried  the  little  fellow.  "And  a  cake 
with  candles  in  it?" 

"Yes,"  answered  mamma.  "Two  cakes  with 
candles  on  them,  I  think,"  she  added. 

"What's  he  to  have  two  cakes  for?  I  had  only 
one,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"  One  cake  wouldn't  be  big  enough  to  hold  all 
the  candles,"  mamma  answered.  "You  see,  papa 
is  a  few  years  older  than  you  are— almost  six 
times  as  old  to-day,  and  if  he  has  a  candle  for 
every  year,  he'll  have  to  have  two  cakes  to  hold 
them  all." 

"Is  papa  six  years  old  to-day?"  asked  Jimmie- 
boy, resuming  his  recumbent  position  on  the  pil- 
low. 

"Oh,  indeed,  yes,  he's  thirty,"  said  mamma. 

"  How  many  is  thirty  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Never  mind,  dearest,"  returned  mamma,  giv- 
ing Jimmieboy  a  kiss.  "Don't  you  bother  about 
that.  Just  close  those  little  peepers  and  go  to 
sleep." 


THE  START.  11 

So  Jimmieboy  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  very 
still  for  a  few  minutes.  He  was  not  sorry  to  do 
it,  either,  because  he  really  was  quite  sleepy. 
He  ought  to  have  had  his  nap  before  luncheon, 
but  his  mamma  had  been  so  busy  all  the  morning, 
making  ready  for  his  papa's  birthday  dinner,  that 
she  had  forgotten  to  call  him  in  from  the  play- 
ground, where  he  was  so  absorbed  in  the  glo- 
rious sport  of  seesawing  with  his  little  friend 
from  across  the  way  that  he  never  even  thought 
of  his  nap.  As  many  as  five  minutes  must  have 
slipped  by  before  Jimmieboy  opened  his  eyes 
again,  and  I  doubt  if  he  would  have  done  so  even 
then  had  he  not  heard  repeated  the  unmistaka- 
ble sounds  of  drums. 

"I  did  hear  'em  that  time,  mamma,"  he  cried, 
starting  up  again  and  winking  very  hard,  for 
the  sand-man  had  left  nearly  a  pint  of  sand  in 
Jimmieboy's  eyes.  "I  heard  'em  plain  as  could 
be." 

To  this  second  statement  of  Jimmieboy's  that 
he  heard  soldiers  going  by  somewhere,  there 
was  no  answer,  for  there  was  no  one  in  the  room 
to  give  him  one,  His  mamma,  supposing  that 
he  had  finally  fallen  asleep,  had  tiptoed  out  of 
the  room  and  was  now  down  stairs,  so  that  the 
little  fellow  found  himself  alone,  As  a  rule  he 


12  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

did  not  like  to  be  alone,  although  he  knew  of  no 
greater  delight  than  that  of  conversing  with 
himself,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  running  to 
the  door  to  call  to  his  mother  to  return,  when  his 
attention  was  arrested  by  some  very  curious 
goings-on  in  a  favorite  picture  of  his  that  hung 
directly  over  the  fire-place. 

This  picture  was  not,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, what  any  one  would  call  a  lively  pict- 
ure— in  fact,  it  was  usually  a  very  quiet  one, 
representing  a  country  lane  shaded  on  either 
side  by  great  oak-trees  that  towered  up  into  the 
sky,  their  branches  overhanging  the  road  so 
as  to  form  a  leafy  arch,  through  which  only 
an  occasional  ray  of  the  sun  ever  found  its  way. 
From  one  end  to  the  other  of  this  beautiful  ave- 
nue there  were  no  signs  of  life,  save  those  which 
were  presented  by  the  green  leaves  of  the  trees 
themselves,  and  the  purling  brook,  bordered  by 
grasses  and  mosses. that  was  visible  a  short  dis- 
tance in ;  no  houses  or  cows  or  men  or  children 
were  there  in  sight.  Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for 
a  faint  glimmering  of  sunlight  at  the  far  end  of 
the  road,  some  persons  might  have  thought  it  a 
rather  gloomy  scene,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that 
even  Jimmieboy,  had  he  not  wondered  what 
there  could  be  beyond  the  forest,  and  around  the 


THE  START.  13 

turn  which  the  road  took  at  that  other  end, 
would  have  found  the  picture  a  little  depressing. 
It  was  his  interest  in  what  might  possibly  lie 
beyond  the  point  at  which  the  picture  seemed  to 
stop  that  had  made  it  so  great  a  favorite  with 
him,  and  he  had  frequently  expressed  a  desire 
to  take  a  stroll  along  that  road,  to  fish  in  the 
little  stream,  and  to  explore  the  hidden  country 
around  the  turn. 

So  great  was  his  interest  in  it  at  one  time,  that 
Jimmieboy's  papa,  who  was  a  great  person  for 
finding  out  things,  promised  to  write  to  the  man 
who  had  painted  the  picture  and  ask  him  all 
about  the  unseen  land,  so  that  his  little  son's 
curiosity  might  be  satisfied,  a  promise  which  he 
must  have  kept,  for  some  days  later,  on  his 
return  from  business,  he  took  a  piece  of  paper 
from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  Jimmieboy,  say- 
ing that  there  was  the  artist's  answer.  Jimmie- 
boy couldn't  read  it,  of  course,  because  at  that 
time  he  had  not  even  learned  his  letters,  so  he 
got  his  papa  to  do  it  for  him,  and  they  made  the 
pleasing  discovery  that  the  artist  was  a  poet  as 
well  as  a  painter,  for  the  answer  was  all  in 
rhyme.  If  I  remember  rightly,  this  is  the  way  it 
read: 


14  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

ABOUND  THE  TUBN. 

Around  the  turn  are  kings  and  queens  ; 

Around  the  turn  are  dogs  and  cats  ; 
Around  the  turn  are  pease  and  beans, 

And  handsome  light  blue  derby  hats. 

Around  the  turn  are  grizzly  bears ; 

Around  the  turn  are  hills  and  dales  ; 
Around  the  turn  are  mice  and  hares, 

And  cream  and  milk  in  wooden  pailo. 

Indeed,  you'll  find  there  horses,  pigs, 
Great  seas  and  cities  you'll  discern  ; 

All  things,  in  fact,  including  figs, 
For  all  the  world  lies  round  the  turn. 

This  explanation  was  quite  satisfactory  to 
Jimmieboy,  although  he  was  a  little  fearful  as 
to  what  might  happen  if  the  grizzly  bears  should 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  come  down  into  the 
nursery  and  hug  him,  which  was  certainly  not 
an  unlikely  thing  for  them  to  do,  for  the  mice 
had  come — he  had  seen  them  himself — and  his 
mamma  had  often  said  that  he  was  a  most 
huggable  little  fellow. 

Now  there  was  undoubtedly  some  sign  of  life 
down  the  road,  for  Jimmieboy  could  see  it  with 
his  own  eyes.  There  was  something  moving 
there,  and  that  something  was  dressed  in  gay 
colors,  and  in  front  of  it  was  something  else  that 
shone  brightly  as  an  occasional  ray  of  the  sun 


THE  START.  15 

shimmered  through  the  trees  and  glistened  upon 
it.  In  an  instant  all  thought  of  his  mamma  had 
flown  from  his  mind,  so  absorbed  was  he  by  the 
startling  discovery  he  had  made  up  there  in  the 
picture.  To  turn  back  from  the  door  and  walk 
over  to  the  fire-place  was  the  work  of  a  moment, 
and  to  climb  up  on  the  fender  and  gaze  into  the 
picture  occupied  hardly  more  than  another  mo- 
ment, and  then  Jimmieboy  saw  what  it  was  that 
was  moving  down  the  road,  and  with  delighted 
ears  heard  also  what  that  other  thing  was  that 
preceded  the  moving  thing. 

The  first  thing  was  a  company  of  tin  soldiers 
marching  in  perfect  time,  their  colors  flying  and 
the  captain  on  horseback ;  and  the  other  thing 
in  front  was  a  full  brass  band,  discoursing  a 
most  inspiring  military  march  in  a  fashion  that 
set  Jimmieboy  strutting  about  the  nursery  like 
a  general. 

As  the  little  fellow  strode  around  the  room  his 
step  was  suddenly  arrested  by  a  voice  immedi- 
ately at  his  feet. 

"Hi,  there,  Jimmieboy!"  it  said.  "Please  be 
careful  where  you  are  walking.  You  nearly 
stepped  on  me  that  time." 

Jimmieboy  stopped  short  and  looked  down 
upon  the  floor. 


16  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Hello !"  he  said.  "What  are  you  doing  there, 
colonel?"— for  it  was  none  other  than  the  colonel 
of  the  tin  soldiers  himself  who  had  thus  re- 
quested him  to  look  out  where  he  stepped. 

"There's  trouble  on  hand,"  said  the  colonel, 
climbing  up  on  to  a  footstool  so  as  to  be  nearer 
Jimmieboy's  ear,  for  he  did  not  wish  to  alarm 
everybody  by  shouting  out  the  dreadful  news  he 
had  to  impart.  Jimmieboy's  mamma,  for  in- 
stance, was  a  timid  little  woman,  and  she  would 
have  been  very  much  frightened  if  she  had 
known  what  had  happened.  "There's  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  on  hand,"  the  colonel  repeated. 
"The  Noah  in  your  ark  fell  asleep  last  night 
before  the  animals  had  gone  to  bed,  and  while 
he  was  napping,  the  Parallelopipedon  got  loose, 
ate  up  the  gingerbread  monkey  and  four  pep- 
permint elephants,  and  escaped  out  of  the  back 
window  to  the  wocds.  Noah  didn't  find  it  out 
until  an  hour  ago,  when  he  went  to  feed  the  ele- 
phants, and  immediately  he  made  the  discovery 
word  came  from  the  Pannikins,  who  live  around 
the  turn  there  in  the  woods,  that  the  Parallelo- 
pipedon had  eaten  the  roof  off  their  house,  and 
was  at  the  time  the  letter  was  written  engaged 
in  whittling  down  the  fences  with  a  jackknife, 
and  rolling  all  the  pumpkins  down  the  mountain- 


THE  START.  17 

side  into  Tiddledywinkland,  and  ruining  the 
whole  country.  We  have  got  to  capture  that 
animal  before  breakfast.  If  we  don't,  there's 
no  telling  what  may  happen.  He  might  even 
go  so  far  as  to  come  back,  and  that  would  be 
horrible." 

"I  don't  think  I  remember  the  Parawelopipe- 
don,"  said  Jimmieboy,  pronouncing  the  animal's 
name  with  some  difficulty.  "  What  kind  of  an 
animal  was  that?" 

"Oh,  he's  an  awful  animal,"  returned  the 
colonel.  "I  don't  blame  you  for  not  remember- 
ing him,  though,  because  he  is  a  hard  animal  to 
remember.  He  is  the  only  animal  they  had 
like  him  in  the  ark.  They  couldn't  find  two  of 
his  sort,  and  1  rather  guess  they  are  glad  they 
couldn't,  because  his  appetite  is  simply  dreadful, 
and  the  things  he  eats  are  most  embarrassing. 
He's  the  one  your  papa  was  telling  you  about  last 
night  before  you  went  to  bed.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber the  rhyme  he  told  you — beginning  this  way: 

4  The  Par.'illelopipedon 

I  do  not  like,  because 
He  Las  so  many,  many  sides, 
And  ninety-seven  claws'?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Jimmieboy.  "He  is  the 
same  animal  that 


18  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

4  Hasn't  got  a  bit  of  sense, 

Or  feather  to  his  name  ; 
No  eye,  no  ear  with  which  to  hear, 
But  gets  there  just  the  same.'  " 

"That's  it!  that's  it!"  cried  the  colonel.  "And 
don't  you  remember, 

'  There's  not  a  thing  he  will  not  eat, 

From  pie  to  sealing-wax, 
Although  he  shows  a  preference  for 
Bed  bricks  and  carpet  tacks'  ?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  that  very  well  now,"  said 
Jimmieboy.  "Wasn't  there  a  verse  about  his 
color,  too?  Didn't  it  say: 

'  His  color  is  a  fearful  one — 

A  combination  hue 
Of  yellow,  green,  and  purple,  mixed 
With  solferino  blue'?  " 

"No;  that  was  the  Parallelogram,"  replied  the 
colonel.  "A  Parallelopipedon  is  six  times  as  bad 
as  a  Parallelogram.  His  color  has  a  verse  about 
it,  though,  that  says : 

'His  hue  is  the  most  terrible 
That  ever  man  has  seen  ; 
'Tis  pink  and  saffron,  blue  and  red, 
Mixed  up  with  apple  green'." 

"Dear  mel"  cried  Jimmieboy.  "And  do  you 
mean  to  say  he's  really  got  away?" 


THE  START.  19 

"I  do,  indeed,"  returned  the  colonel.  "Got 
away,  and  Noah  is  glad  of  it,  because  he  doesn't 
have  to  feed  him  any  more.  But  it  '11  never  do  to 
let  him  stay  loose;  he  will  do  too  much  damage. 
Why,  Jimmieboy,  suppose  he  should  overeat 
himself  and  die?  He's  the. only  one  in  the  world, 
and  we  can't  afford  to  lose  an  animal  like  that; 
besides,  after  he  has  ruined  all  the  country 
around  the  turn,  it's  just  as  like  as  not  he'll 
begin  on  the  rest  of  the  picture,  and  eat  it  all  up, 
frame  and  all." 

"My!"  cried  the  little  boy.  "That  would  be 
terrible,  wouldn't  it!  You  are  right — he  must  be 
captured.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  go  along  with 
you  and  help." 

"Half  a  mind  isn't  enough,"  retorted  the 
colonel,  shaking  his  head.  "You  can't  go  into 
the  soldier  business  unless  you  have  a  whole 
mind— so  good-by,  Jimmieboy.  I  must  be  run- 
ning along;  and  should  I  not  return,  as  the  poet 

says, 

'Pray  do  not  weep  for  me,  my  boy, 

But,  as  the  years  slip  by, 
Drop  all  your  pennies  in  a  bank — 

Brave  soldiers  never  die  ; 
And  some  day  I'll  turn  up  again, 

Exalted,  high  in  rank, 
And  possibly  I'll  find  some  use 

For  that  small  sum  in  bank.' " 


20  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stay  here  while  you  are 
fighting,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with  a  determined 
shake  of  his  head.  "I've  got  a  whole  mind  to  go 
with  you,  and  a  uniform  to  wear  as  well.  But 
tell  me,  can  I  get  up  there  on  the  road?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  colonel.  "I'll  show  you 
how,  only  put  on  your  uniform  first.  They  won't 
let  you  go  unless  you  are  suitably  dressed.  Lit- 
tle boys,  with  striped  trousers  like  yours, 
would  be  out  of  place,  but  with  a  uniform 
such  as  yours  is,  with  real  gold  on  the  cap  and 
brass  buttons  on  the  coat — well,  I'm  not  sure  but 
what  they'll  elect  you  water-carrier,  or  general, 
or  something  equally  important." 

So  Jimmieboy  hurried  to  his  clothes-closet 
and  quickly  donned  his  military  suit,  and  grasp- 
ing his  sword  firmly  by  the  hilt,  cried  out : 

"Ready!" 

"All  right,"  said  the  colonel.  "They  are  wait- 
ing for  us.  Close  your  eyes." 

Jimmieboy  did  as  he  was  told. 

"One — two— three— eyes  open!"  cried  the  colo- 
nel. 

Again  Jimmieboy  did  as  he  was  ordered, 
although  he  couldn't  see  why  he  should  obey  the 
colonel,  who  up  to  this  afternoon  had  been  en- 
tirely subject  to  his  orders.  He  opened  his  eyes 


THE  START.  21 

at  the  command,  and,  much  to  his  surprise, 
found  himself  standing  in  the  middle  of  that 
wooded  road  in  the  picture,  beneath  the  arch- 
ing trees,  the  leaves  of  which  rustled  softly  as 
a  sweet  perfumed  breeze  blew  through  the 
branches.  About  him  on  every  side  were  groups 
of  tin  soldiers  talking  excitedly  about  the  escape 
of  the  devastating  Parallelopipedon,  every  man 
of  them  armed  to  the  teeth  and  eager  for  the 
colonel's  command  to  start  off  on  the  search 
expedition.  The  band  was  playing  merrily  under 
the  trees  up  the  road  near  the  little  brook,  and 
back  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had  come, 
through  the  heavy  gilt  frame,  Jimmieboy  could 
see  the  nursery  just  as  he  had  left  it,  while  before 
him  lay  the  turn  at  the  end  of  the  wood  and  the 
unknown  country  now  soon  to  be  explored. 


F 


CHAPTER  II. 

JIMMIEBOY    RECEIVES    HIS  ORDERS. 

OR  a  few  moments  Jimmieboy  was  so  over- 
come by  the  extreme  novelty  of  his  position 
that  he  could  do  nothing  but  wander  in  and  out 
among  the  trees,  wondering  if  he  really  was  him- 
self, and  whether  the  soldiers  by  whom  he  was 
surrounded  were  tin  or  creatures  of  flesh  and 
blood.  They  certainly  looked  and  acted  like 
human  beings,  and  they  talked  in  a  manner 
entirely  different  from  what  Jimmieboy  was  ac- 
customed to  expect  from  the  little  pieces  of  painted 
tin  he  had  so  often  played  with  on  the  nursery 
floor,  but  he  very  soon  learned  that  they  were  tin, 
and  not  made  up,  like  himself,  of  bone  and  sinew. 
The  manner  of  his  discovery  was  this:  One  of 
the  soldiers,  in  a  very  rash  and  fool-hardy  fash- 
ion, tried  to  pick  up  a  stone  from  the  road  to 
throw  at  a  poor  little  zinc  robin  that  was  whist- 
ling in  the  trees  above  his  head,  and  in  bending 
over  after  the  stone  and  then  straightening  him- 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       23 

self  up  to  take  aim,  he  snapped  himself  into  two 
distinct  pieces — as  indeed  would  any  other  tin 
soldier,  however  strong  and  well  made,  and  of 
course  Jimmieboy  was  then  able  to  see  that  the 
band  with  whom  he  had  for  the  moment  cast  his 
fortunes  were  nothing  more  nor  less  than  bits  of 
brittle  tin,  to  whom  in  some  mysterious  way  had 
come  life.  The  boy  was  pained  to  note  the 
destruction  of  the  little  man  who  had  tried  to 
throw  the  stone  at  the  robin,  because  he  was 
always  sorry  for  everybody  apon  whom  trouble 
had  come,  but  he  was  not,  on  the  whole,  sur- 
prised at  the  soldier's  plight,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  he  had  been  taught  that  boys  who 
threw  stones  at  the  harmless  little  birds  in  the 
trees  were  naughty  and  worthy  of  punishment, 
and  he  could  not  see  why  a  tin  soldier  should  not 
be  punished  for  doing  what  a  small  boy  of  right 
feelings  would  disdain  to  do. 

After  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  his  com- 
panions were  really  of  tin,  he  became  a  bit  fear- 
ful as  to  his  own  make-up,  and  the  question  that 
he  now  asked  himself  was,  "Am  I  tin,  too,  or 
what?"  He  was  not  long  in  answering  this  ques- 
tion to  his  own  satisfaction,  for  after  bending  his 
little  fingers  to  and  fro  a  dozen  or  more  times, 
he  was  relieved  to  discover  that  he  had  not 


24  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

changed.     The  fingers  did  not  snap  off,  as  he  had 
feared  they  might,  and  he  was  glad. 

Barely  had  Jimmieboy  satisfied  himself  on  this 
point  when  a  handsomely  dressed  soldier,  on  a 
blue  lead  horse,  came  galloping  up,  and  cried  out 
so  loud  that  his  voice  echoed  through  the  tall 
trees  of  the  forest : 

"Is  General  Jimmieboy  here?" 

"Jimmieboy  is  here,"  answered  the  little  fel- 
low. "I'm  Jimmieboy,  but  I  am  no  general." 

"But  you  have  on  a  general's  uniform,"  said 
the  soldier. 

"Have  I?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  with  a  glance 
at  his  clothes.  "Well,  if  1  have,  it's  because  they 
are  the  only  soldier  clothes  I  own." 

"Well,  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  soldier  on 
horseback,  "but  if  you  wear  those  clothes  you've 
got  to  be  general.  It's  a  hard  position  to  occupy, 
and  of  course  you'd  rather  be  a  high-private  or  a 
member  of  the  band,  but  as  it  is,  there  is  no  way 
out  of  it.  If  the  clothes  would  fit  any  one  else 
here,  you  might  exchange  with  him;  but  they 
won't,  I  can  tell  that  by  looking  at  the  yellow 
stripes  on  your  trousers.  The  stripes  alone  are 
wider  than  any  of  our  legs." 

"Oh!"  responded  Jimmieboy,  "I  don't  mind 
being  general.  I'd  just  as  lief  be  a  general  as 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       25 

not ;  I  know  how  to  wave  a  sword  and  march 
ahead  of  the  procession." 

At  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the 
soldiers. 

"How  queer!"  said  one. 

"What  an  absurd  idea!"  cried  another. 

"Where  did  he  ever  get  such  notions  as  that?" 
said  a  third. 

And  then  they  all  laughed  again. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  soldier  on  horseback, 
with  a  kindly  smile  which  won  Jimmieboy's 
heart,  "that  you  do  not  understand  what  the  du- 
ties of  a  general  are  in  this  country.  We  aren't 
bound  down  by  the  notions  of  you  nursery  peo- 
ple, who  seem  to  think  that  all  a  general  is  good 
for  is  to  be  stood  up  in  front  of  a  cannon  loaded 
with  beans,  and  knocked  over  half  a  dozen 
times  in  the  course  of  a  battle.  Have  you  ever  read 
those  lines  of  High-private  Tinsel  in  his  little 
book,  'Poems  in  Pewter,'  in  which  he  tells  of 
the  trials  of  a  general  of  the  tin  soldiers?" 

"Of  course  I  haven't,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I 
can't  read." 

"Just  the  man  for  a  general,  if  he  can't  read," 
said  one  of  the  soldiers.  "  He'll  never  know  what 
the  newspapers  say  of  him." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  the  story,"  said  the  horse- 


26  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

man,  dismounting,  and  standing  on  a  stump  by 
the  road-side  to  give  better  effect  to  the  poem, 
which  he  recited  as  follows : 

••  THE  TIN  SOLDIER  GENERAL. 

I  walked  one  day 

Along  the  way 
That  leads  from  camp  to  city  ; 

And  I  espied 

At  the  road-side 
The  hero  of  my  ditty. 

His  massive  feet, 

In  slippers  neat, 
Were  crossed  in  desperation  ; 

And  from  his  eyes 

Salt  tears  did  rise 
In  awful  exudation." 

"In  what?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  who  was  not 
quite  used  to  grown-up  words  like  exudation. 

"Quarts,"  replied  the  soldier,  with  a  frown. 
"Don't  interrupt.  This  poem  isn't  good  for  much 
unless  it  goes  right  through  without  a  stop— like 
an  express  train." 

And  then  he  resumed  : 

"It  filled  my  soul 

With  horrid  dole 
To  see  this  wailing  creature  ; 

How  tears  did  sweep, 

And  furrow  deep, 
Along  his  nasal  feature! 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       27 

My  eyes  grew  dim 

To  look  at  him, 
To  see  bis  tear-drops  soiling 

His  necktie  bold, 

His  trimmings  gold, 
And  all  his  rich  clothes  spoiling  ; 

And  so  I  stopped, 

Beside  him  dropped, 
And  quoth,  '  Wilt  tell  me,  mortal, 

Wherefore  you  sighed  ? ' 

And  he  replied  : 
'  Wilt  I  ?    Well,  I  shouldst  chortle. '  " 

"I  don't  know  what  chortle  means,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  the  soldier.  "But  I  guess 
the  man  who  wrote  the  poem  did,  so  it's  all 
right,  and  we  may  safely  go  on  to  the  next 
verse,  which  isn't  very  different  in  its  verbi- 
ology— " 

"Its  wha-a-at?"  cried  a  dozen  tin  soldiers  at 
once. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  declaiming  soldier, 
severely,  "  there  are  some  words  in  our  language 
which  no  creature  should  be  asked  to  utter  more 
than  once  in  a  life-time,  and  that  is  one  of  them. 
I  shall  not  endanger  my  oratorical  welfare  by 
speaking  it  again.  Suffice  it  for  me  to  say  that 
if  you  want  to  use  that  word  yourselves,  you 
will  find  it  in  the  dictionary  somewhere^  under 


28  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

F,  or  Z,  or  Ph,  or  some  other  letter  which  I  can- 
not at  this  moment  recall.    But  the  poem  goes 

on  to  say  : 

"  Then  as  we  sat 

The  road- side  at — 
His  tears  a  moment  quelling— 
In  accents  pale 
He  told  the  tale 
Which  I  am  also  telling." 

"Dear  me !"  said  a  little  green  corporal  at  Jim- 
mieboy's  side.  "Hasn't  he  begun  the  story  yet?" 

"  Yes,  stupid,"  said  a  high-private.  "  Of  course 
he  has ;  but  it's  one  of  those  stories  that  take  a 
long  time  to  begin,  and  never  finish  until  the 
very  end." 

"Oh  yes,  I  know,"  said  another.  "It's  a  story 
like  one  I  heard  of  the  other  day.  You  can  lay 
it  down  whenever  you  want  to,  and  be  glad  to 
have  the  chance." 

"That's  it,"  said  the  high-private. 

"I  wish  you  fellows  would  keep  still,"  said  the 
soldier  who  was  reciting.  "  I  ought  to  have  been 
a  quarter  of  the  way  through  the  first  half  of  that 
poem  by  this  time,  and  instead  of  that  I'm  only  a 
sixteenth  of  the  way  through  the  first  eighth." 

"  You  can't  expect  to  go  more  than  eight  miles 
an  hour,"  said  the  corporal,  "even  in  poetry  like 
that.  It  can't  be  done." 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       29 

"But  what  happened?"  asked  Jirnmieboy,  who 
was  quite  interested  to  hear  the  rest  of  the 
poem. 

"I'll  have  to  tell  you  some  other  time,  gen- 
eral," replied  the  soldier.  "These  tin  warriors 
here  haven't  any  manners.  Some  day,  when  you 
have  time  to  spare,  I'll  tell  you  the  rest  of  it, 
because  I  know  you'll  be  glad  to  hear  it." 

"Yes,  general,"  put  in  the  corporal,  with  a 
laugh.  "Some  day  when  you  have  a  year  to 
spare  get  him  to  tell  you  the  first  twenty -seventh 
of  the  next  ninety-sixth  of  it.  It  won't  take  him 
more  than  eleven  months  and  thirty -two  days  to 
doit." 

"Bah!"  said  the  poetic  soldier,  mounting  his 
horse  and  riding  off  with  an  angry  flush  on  his 
cheek.  "  Some  day,  when  I  get  promoted  to  the 
ranks,  I'll  get  even  with  you." 

"Who  is  he,  anyhow?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  as 
the  soldier  rode  off. 

"He's  Major  Blueface,  and  he  has  to  look  after 
the  luggage,"  replied  the  corporal.  "And  as  for 
that  poem  of  his,  Jimmieboy,  I  want  to  warn 
you.  He  has  a  printed  copy  of  it  that  takes  seven 
trunks  to  carry.  He  says  it  was  written  by  High- 
private  Tinsel,  but  that's  all  nonsense.  He  wrote 
it  himself." 


30  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Then  I  like  it  all  the  better,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"I  always  like  what  people  I  like  write." 

"There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  returned 
the  corporal.  "  We  don't  any  of  us  like  the  major. 
That's  why  we  made  him  major.  Looking  after 
luggage  is  such  awfully  hard  work,  we  didn't 
want  to  make  any  one  else  do  it,  and  so  we 
elected  him." 

"Why  don't  you  like  him?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 
"He  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very  nice  soldier." 

"That's  just  it,"  returned  the  corporal.  "He's 
just  the  kind  of  soldier  to  please  little  boys  like 
you,  and  he'd  look  perfectly  splendid  in  a  white 
and  gold  parlor  like  your  mamma's,  but  in  camp 
he's  a  terror.  Keeps  his  boots  shined  up  like  a 
looking-glass ;  wears  his  Sunday  uniform  all  the 
time;  in  fact,  he  has  seven  Sunday  uniforms- 
one  for  each  day  of  the  week ;  and  altogether  he 
makes  the  rest  of  us  feel  so  mean  and  cheap  that 
we  can't  like  him.  He  offered  a  prize  once  to 
the  soldier  who'd  like  him  the  best,  and  who  do 
you  think  won  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Who?" 

"He  won  it  himself,"  retorted  the  corporal. 
"Nobody  else  tried.  But  you'd  better  go  over 
to  the  colonel's  quarters  right  away,  Jimmieboy. 
You  know  he  wants  you." 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       31 

"  He  hasn't  sent  for  me,  has  he?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Of  course  he  has.  That's  what  the  major 
came  to  tell  you,"  answered  the  corporal. 

"But  he  didn't  say  so,"  returned  Jimmieboy. 

"No,  he  never  does  what  he  is  sent  to  do,"  ex- 
plained the  corporal.  "  That's  how  we  know.  If 
he  had  told  you  the  colonel  wanted  you,  we'd  all 
know  the  colonel  didn't  want  you.  He's  a  queer 
bird,  that  major.  He's  so  anxious  to  read  his 
poem  to  somebody  that  he  always  forgets  his 
orders,  and  when  he  does  half  remember  what 
he  is  sent  to  do,  we  can  tell  what  the  orders  are 
by  what  he  doesn't  say." 

"I  shouldn't  think  he'd  be  a  good  man  to  look 
after  the  luggage  if  he  forgets  everything  that 
way,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"That's  just  where  he's  great,"  returned  the 
corporal.  "  For,  don't  you  see,  every  man  in  the 
regiment  wants  to  carry  about  three  times  as 
much  luggage  as  he  ought  to,  and  the  major 
makes  it  all  right  by  forgetting  two-thirds  of  it. 
Oh,  there's  no  denying  that  he's  one  of  the 
greatest  luggage  men  there  ever  was;  but  you 
run  along  now,  or  the  colonel  may  lose  his  tem- 
per, and  that  always  delays  things." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  the  colonel,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy, bravely. 


32  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

"Neither  are  we,"  said  the  corporal,  in  reply 
to  this,  "but  we  don't  like  to  have  our  campaign 
delayed,  and  when  the  colonel  loses  his  temper 
we  have  to  wait  and  wait  until  he  finds  it  again. 
Sometimes  it  takes  him  a  whole  week," 

So  Jimmieboy,  wondering  more  and  more  at 
the  singular  habits  of  the  tin  soldiers,  ran  off  in 
search  of  the  colonel,  whom  he  found  sitting  by 
the  brook-side  fishing,  and  surrounded  by  his 
staff. 

"Hello!"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  the  colonel.  "Having  any  luck?" 

"Lots,"  said  the  colonel.  "Been  here  only  five 
minutes,  and  I've  caught  three  hickory  twigs,  a 
piece  of  wire,  and  one  of  the  finest  colds  in  my 
head  I  ever  had." 

"Good,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with  a  laugh.  "But 
aren't  there  any  fish  there?" 

"Plenty  of  'em,"  answered  the  colonel.  "But 
they're  all  so  small  I'd  have  to  throw  'em  back 
if  I  caught  'em.  They  know  that  well  enough, 
and  so  save  me  trouble  by  not  biting.  But  I  say, 
I  suppose  you  know  we  can't  start  this  expedition 
without  ammunition?" 

"What's  that?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  to  whom 
the  word  ammunition  was  entirely  new. 

"Ammunition?     Why,  that's  stuff  to  load  our 


JIMMIEBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       33 

guns  with,"  returned  the  colonel.     "  You  must  be 
a  great  general  not  to  know  that." 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with 
a  blush.  "There  is  a  great  deal  that  I  don't 
know.  I'm  only  five  years  old,  and  papa  hasn't 
had  time  to  tell  me  everything  yet." 

"Well,  it's  all  right,  an} how,"  replied  the 
colonel.  "You'll  learn  a  great  deal  in  the  next 
hundred  years,  so  we  won't  criticise;  but  of 
course,  you  know,  we  can't  go  off  without  am- 
munition any  more  than  a  gun  can.  Now,  as 
general  of  the  forces,  it  is  your  duty  to  look 
about  you  and  lay  in  the  necessary  supplies.  For 
the  guns  we  shall  need  about  fourteen  thousand 
rounds  of  preserved  cherries,  seventeen  thou- 
sand rounds  of  pickled  peaches  for  the  cannon, 
and  a  hundred  and  sixty -two  dozen  cans  of  straw- 
berry jam  for  me." 

Jimmieboy's  eyes  grew  so  round  and  large  as 
he  listened  to  these  words  that  the  major  turned 
pale. 

"Then,"  continued  the  colonel,  "we  have  to 
have  powder  and  shell,  of  course.  Perhaps  four 
hundred  and  sixteen  pounds  of  powdered  sugar 
and  ninety-seven  barrels  of  shells  with  almonds 
in  'em  would  do  for  our  purposes." 

"But — but  what  are  we  to  do  with  all  these 


34  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

things,  and  where  am  I  to  get  them?"  gasped  Jim- 
mieboy,  beginning  to  be  very  sorry  that  he  had 
accepted  so  important  a  position  as  that  of  general. 

"Do  with  'em?"  cried  the  colonel.  "What  '11 
we  do  with  'em?  Why,  capture  the  Parallelopipe- 
don,  of  course.  What  did  you  suppose  we'd  do 
with  'em— throw  them  at  canary-birds?" 

"You  don't  load  guns  with  preserved  cherries, 
do  you?"  asked  the  boy. 

"We  don't,  eh?  Well,  I  just  guess  we  do,"  re- 
turned the  colonel.  "And  we  load  the  cannon 
with  pickled  peaches,  and  to  keep  me  from  de- 
serting and  going  over  to  the  enemy,  they  keep 
me  loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  strawberry  jam 
from  the  time  I  start  until  we  get  back." 

"You  can't  kill  a  Parawelopipedon  with  cher- 
ries and  peaches,  can  you?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Not  quite,  but  nearly,"  said  the  colonel.  "We 
never  hit  him  with  enough  of  them  to  kill  him, 
but  just  try  to  coax  him  with  'em,  don't  you  see? 
We  don't  do  as  you  do  in  your  country.  We 
don't  shoot  the  enemy  with  lead  bullets,  and 
try  to  kill  him  and  make  him  unhappy.  We 
try  to  coax  him  back  by  shooting  sweetmeats  at 
him,  and  if  he  won't  be  coaxed,  we  bombard  him 
with  pickled  peaches  until  they  make  him  sick, 
and  then  he  has  to  surrender." 


JIMM1EBOY  RECEIVES  HIS  ORDERS.       35 

"  It  must  be  pretty  fine  to  be  an  enemy,"  said 
Jimmieboy,  smacking  his  lips  as  he  thought  of 
being  bombarded  with  sweetmeats. 

"  It  is,"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  It's  so  nice,  that  they  have  to  do  the  right  thing 
by  me  in  the  matter  of  jam  to  keep  me  from  be- 
ing an  enemy  myself." 

"But  what  do  I  get?"  returned  Jimmieboy, 
who  couldn't  see  why  it  would  not  be  pleasant 
for  him  to  be  an  enemy,  and  get  all  these  delight- 
ful things. 

"You?  Why,  you  get  the  almonds  and  the 
powdered  sugar  and  all  the  mince-pie  you  can 
eat — what  more  do  you  want?"  said  the  colonel. 

"Nothing,"  gasped  Jimmieboy,  overcome  by 
the  prospect.  "I  wouldn't  mind  being  a  general 
for  a  million  years  at  that  rate." 
.  With  which  noble  sentiment  the  little  fellow 
touched  his  cap  to  the  colonel,  and  set  off,  accom- 
panied by  a  dozen  soldiers,  to  find  the  cherries, 
the  peaches,  the  almonds,  and  the  powdered 
sugar. 


T 


CHAPTER  III. 

MAJOR  BLUEFACE   TRIES   TO   ASSIST. 

HE  expedition  under  Jimmieboy's  command 
had  hardly  been  under  way  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  when  the  youthful  general  realized  that 
the  colonel  had  not  told  him  where  the  cherries 
and  peaches  and  other  necessary  supplies  were 
to  be  found. 

"Dear  me,"  he  said,  stopping  short  in  the  road. 
"I  don't  know  anything  about  this  country,  and 
I  am  sure  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  find  all  those  good 
things — except  in  my  mamma's  pantry,  and  it 
would  never  do  for  me  to  take  'em  from  there.  I 
might  have  to  fight  cook  to  get  'em,  and  that 
would  be  dreadful." 

"Yes,  it  would,"  said  Major  Blueface,  riding 
up  as  Jimmieboy  spoke  these  words.  "It  would 
be  terribly  awful,  for  if  you  should  fight  with 
her  now,  she  wouldn't  make  you  a  single  pancake 
or  pie  or  custard  or  anything  after  you  got  back." 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      37 

"I'm  glad  you've  come,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  what 
I've  got  to  do  to  get  that  ammu— that  ammu— 
oh,  that  ammuknow,  don't  you?" 

"Ammunition?"  suggested  the  major. 
•  "Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Jimmieboy.     "Could  you 
tell  me  where  to  get  it?" 

"  1  could ;  but,  really,"  returned  the  major,  "  I'm 
very  much  afraid  I'd  better  not,  unless  you'll 
promise  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  what  I  say." 

"I  don't  see  what  good  that  would  do,"  said 
Jimmieboy,  a  little  surprised  at  the  major's 
words.  "  What's  the  use  of  your  saying  anything, 
if  I  am  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  you?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  if  you'll  sit  down  a  moment,"  was 
the  major's  reply,  upon  which  he  and  Jimmieboy 
sat  down  on  a  log  at  the  road-side. 

The  major  then  recited  his  story  as  follows: 

"THE  MAJOR'S  MISFORTUNE. 

Wlion  I  was  born,  some  years  ago, 

The  world  was  standing  npside  down  ; 

Pokin  was  off  in  Mexico, 

And  Paris  stood  near  German  town. 

Tlie  moon  likewise  was  out  of  gear. 

And  shone  most  brilliantly  by  day  ; 
The  while  the  sun  did  not  appear 

Until  the  moon  had  gone  away. 


38  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

Which  was,  you  see,  a  very  strange, 

Unhappy  way  of  doing  things, 
And  people  did  not  like  the  change, 

Save  clods  who  took  the  rank  of  kings. 

For  kings  as  well  were  going  wrong, 
And  'stead  of  crowns  wore  beaver  hats, 

While  those  once  mean  and  poor  grew  strong; 
The  dogs  e'en  ran  from  mice  and  rats. 

The  Frenchman  spoke  the  Spanish  tongue, 
The  Russian's  words  were  Turkestan  ; 

And  England's  nerves  were  all  unstrung 
By  cockneys  speaking  Aryan. 

Schools  went  to  boys,  and  billie-goats 
Drove  children  harnessed  up  to  carts. 

The  rivers  flowed  up  hill,  and  oats 
Were  fed  to  babies  'stead  of  tarts. 

With  things  in  this  shape  was  I  born. 

The  stars  were  topsy-turvy  all, 
And  hence  it  is  my  fate  forlorn 

When  things  are  short  to  call  them  tall  ; 

When  things  are  black  to  call  them  white  ; 

And  if  they're  good  to  call  them  bad; 
To  say  'tis  day  when  it  is  night  ; 

To  call  an  elephant  a  shad. 

And  when  I  say  that  this  is  this, 
That  it  is  that  you'll  surely  know  ; 

For  truth's  a  thing  I  always  miss, 
And  what  I  say  is  never  so." 

"Poor  fellow!"  cried  Jimmieboy.    "How  very 
unpleasant!    Is  that  really  a  true  story?" 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      39 

"No,"  returned  the  major,  sadly.  "It  is  not 
true." 

And  then  Jimrnieboy  knew  that  it  was  true, 
and  he  felt  very  sorry  for  the  major. 

"Never  mind,  major,"  he  said,  tapping  his 
companion  affectionately  on  the  shoulder.  "  I'll 
believe  what  you  say  if  nobody  else  does." 

"Oh,  don't,  don't!  I  beg  of  you,  don't!"  cried 
the  major,  anxiously.  "I  wouldn't  have  you 
do  that  for  all  the  world.  If  you  did,  it  would 
get  us  into  all  sorts  of  trouble.  If  I  had 
thought  you'd  do  that,  I'd  never  have  told  you 
the  story." 

"Very  well,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "then  I  won't. 
Only  I  should  think  you'd  want  to  have  some- 
body believe  in  you." 

"Oh,  you  can  believe  in  me  all  you  want,"  re- 
turned the  major.  "I'm  one  of  the  finest  fellows 
in  the  world,  and  worthy  of  anybody's  friendship 
—and  if  anybody  ought  to  know,  Jimmieboy,  I'm 
the  one,  for  I  know  myself  intimately.  I've 
known  myself  ever  since  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
boy,  and  I  can  tell  you  if  there's  any  man  in  the 
world  who  has  a  noble  character  and  a  good  con- 
science and  a  heart  in  the  right  place,  I'm  him. 
It's  only  what  I  say  you  mustn't  believe  in.  Re- 
member that,  and  we  shall  be  all  right," 


40  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"  All  right,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  We'll  do  it  that 
way.  Now  tell  me  what  you  don't  know  about 
finding  preserved  cherries  and  pickled  peaches. 
We've  got  to  lay  in  a  very  large  supply  of  them, 
and  I  haven't  the  first  idea  how  to  get  'em." 

"H'm!  What  I  don't  know  about  'em  would 
take  a  long  time  to  tell,"  returned  the  major, 
with  a  shake  of  his  head,  "  because  there's  so 
much  of  it.  In  the  first  place, 

"  I  do  not  know 

If  cherries  grow 
On  trees,  or  roofs,  or  rocks; 

Or  if  they  come 

In  cans — ho-huin  ! — 
Or  packed  up  in  a  box. 

Mayhap  you'll  find 

The  proper  kind 
Down  where  they  sell  red  paint  ; 

And  then,  you  see, 

Oh,  dear  !    Ah,  me  ! 
And  then  again  you  mayn't." 

"That  appears  to  settle  the  cherries,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy, somewhat  impatiently,  for  it  did  seem  to 
him  that  the  major  was  wasting  a  great  deal  of 
valuable  time. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  no!"  ejaculated  the  major.  "I 
could  go  on  like  that  forever  about  cherries. 
For  instance : 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      41 

"  You  might  perchance 

Get  some  in  France, 
And  some  in  Germany  ; 

A  crate  or  two 

In  far  Barboo, 
And  some  in  Labradee." 

"Where's  Labradee?"  ask'ed  Jimmieboy. 

"It's  Labrador,"  said  the  major,  with  a  smile; 
"  but  Labradee  rhymes  better  with  Germany,  and 
as  long  as  you  know  I'm  not  telling  the  truth, 
and  are  not  likely  to  go  there,  it  doesn't  make 
any  difference  if  I  change  it  a  little." 

"That's  so,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with  a  snicker. 
"  But  how  about  those  peaches  ?  Do  you  know 
anything  that  isn't  so  about  them?" 

"Oh,  yes,  lots,"  said  the  major. 

"  I  know  that  when  the  peach  is  green, 

And  growing  on  the  tree, 
It's  harder  than  a  common  beau, 
And  yellow  as  can  be. 

1  know  that  if  you  eat  a  peach 

That's  just  a  bit  too  young, 
A  lesson  strong  the  act  will  teach, 

And  leave  your  nerves  unstrung. 

And,  furthermore,  I  know  this  fact: 

The  crop,  however  hale 
In  every  year  before  'tis  packed, 

Doth  never  fail  to  fail." 

"That's    very    interesting,"   said    Jimmieboy, 


42  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

when  the  major  had  recited  these  lines,  "but 
it  doesn't  help  me  a  bit.  What  I  want  to  know 
is  how  the  pickled  peaches  are  to  be  found,  and 
where. " 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  the  major.  "Well, 
it's  easy  enough  to  tell  you  that.  First  as  to  how 
you  are  to  find  them — this  applies  to  huckleber- 
ries and  daisies  and  fire-engines  and  everything 
else,  just  as  well  as  it  does  to  peaches,  so  you'd 
better  listen.  It's  a  very  valuable  thing  to  know. 

'•  The  way  to  find  a  pickled  peach, 

A  cow,  or  piece  of  pumpkiu  pie, 
A  simple  lessoii  is  to  teach, 
As  can  be  seen  with  half  an  eye. 

Look  up  the  road  and  down  the  road, 
Look  North  and  South  and  East  and  West. 

Let  not  a  single  episode 
Come  in  betwixt  you  and  your  quast. 

Search  morning,  night,  and  afternoon, 

From  Monday  until  Saturday  ; 
By  light  of  sun  and  that  of  moon, 

Nor  mind  the  troubles  in  your  way. 

And  keep  this  up  until  you  get 
The  thing  that  you  are  looking  for, 

And  then,  of  course,  you  need  not  fret 
About  the  matter  any  more." 

"You  are  a  great  help,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"Don't  mention  it,  my  dear  boy,"  replied   the 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      43 

major,  so  pleased  that  he  smiled  and  cracked 
some  of  the  red  enamel  on  his  lips.  "  I  like  to  be 
useful.  It's  almost  as  good  as  being  youthful.  In 
fact,  to  people  who  lisp  and  pronounce  their  esses 
as  though  they  were  teeaitches,  it's  quite  the 
same.  It  was  very  easy  to  tell  you  how  to  find 
a  pickled  peach,  but  it's  much  harder  to  tell  you 
where.  In  fact,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  you 
where,  but  if  I  were  not  compelled  to  ignore  the 
truth  I  should  inform  you  at  once  that  I  haven't 
the  slightest  idea.  But,  of  course,  I  can  tell  you 
where  you  might  find  them  if  they  were  there — 
which,  of  course,  they  aren't.  For  instance: 

"  Pickled  peaches  might  be  found 
Iii  the  gold  mines  underground  ; 

Pickled  peaches  might  be  seen 
Rolling  down  the  Bowling  Green  ; 

Pickled  peaches  might  spring  up 
In  a  bed  of  custard  cup  ; 

Pickled  peaches  might  sprout  forth 
From  an  ice-cake  in  the  North  ; 

I  have  seen  them  in  the  South 
In  a  pickaninny's  mouth  ; 

I  have  seen  them  in  the  West 
Hid  inside  a  cowboy's  vest ; 

I  have  seen  them  in  the  East 
At  a  small  boy's  birthday  feast  ; 


44  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

Maybe,  too,  a  few  you'd  see 
111  the  land  of  the  Chinee  ; 

And  this  statement  broad  I'll  dare  : 
You  might  find  them  anywhere." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  feel  easier 
now  that  I  know  all  this.  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done  if  I  hadn't  met  you,  major." 

"It's  very  unkind  of  you  to  say  so,"  said  the 
major,  very  much  pleased  by  Jimmieboy 's  ap- 
preciation. "  Of  course  you  know  what  I  mean." 

"Yes,"  answered  Jimmieboy,  "I  do.  Now  I'll 
tell  .you  what  I  think.  I  think  pickled  peaches 
come  in  cans  and  bottles." 

"  Bottles  and  cans, 
Bottles  and  cans, 
When  a  man  marries  it  ruins  his  plans," 

quoted  the  major.  "I  got  married  once,"  he 
added,  "  but  I  became  a  bachelor  again  right  off. 
My  wife  wrote  better  poetry  than  I  could,  and  I 
couldn't  stand  that,  you  know.  That's  how  I 
came  to  be  a  soldier." 

"That  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  the  pickled 
peaches,"  said  Jimmieboy,  impatiently.  "Now, 
unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  we  can  go  to 
the  grocery  store  and  buy  a  few  bottles." 

"Ho!"  jeered  the  major.     "What's  the  use  of 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      45 

buying    bottles     when     you're     after    pickled 

peaches? 

«  Of  all  the  futile,  futile  things— 

Remarked  the  Apogee — 
That  is  as  truly  futilest 
As  futilest  can  be.' 

You  never  heard  my  poem  on  the  Apogee,  did 
you,  Jimmieboy?" 

"  No.  I  never  even  heard  of  an  Apogee.  What 
is  an  Apogee,  anyhow?"  asked  the  boy. 

u  To  give  definitions  isn't  a  part  of  my  bar- 
gain," answered  the  major.  "  I  haven't  the  slight- 
est idea  what  an  Apogee  is.  He  may  be  a  bird 
with  a  whole  file  of  unpaid  bills,  for  all  I  know, 
but  I  wrote  a  poem  about  him  once  that  made 
another  poet  so  jealous  that  he  purposely  caught 
a  bad  cold  and  sneezed  his  head  off;  and  I  don't 
blame  him  either,  because  it  was  a  magnificent 
thing  in  its  way.  I'll  tell  it  to  you.  Listen : 

"THE  APOGEE. 

The  Apogee  wept  saline  tears 

Into  the  saline  sea, 
To  overhear  two  mutineers 

Discuss  their  pedigree. 

Said  he  : 
Of  all  the  futile,  futile  things 

That  ever  I  did  see. 
That  is  as  truly  futilest 

As  futilest  can  be. 


46  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

He  hied  him  thence  to  his  hotel, 

Aiid  there  it  made  him  ill 
To  hear  a  pretty  damosel 

A  bass  song  try  to  trill. 

Said  he  : 
Of  all  the  futile,  futile  things — 

To  say  it  I  am  free — 
That  is  about  the  futilest 

That  ever  I  did  see. 

He  went  from  sea  to  mountain  height, 

And  there  he  heard  a  lad 
Of  sixty-eight  compare  the  sight 

To  other  views  he'd  had  ; 
And  he 
Remarked  :  Of  all  the  futile  things 

That  ever  came  to  me, 
This  is  as  futily  futile 

As  futile  well  can  be. 

Then  in  disgust  he  went  back  home, 

His  door-bell  rang  all  day, 
But  no  one  to  the  door  did  come  : 

The  butler'd  gone  away. 

Said  he  : 
This  is  the  strangest,  queerest  world 

That  ever  I  did  see. 
It's  two  per  cent,  of  earth,  and  nine- 

Ty-eight  futility." 

"Isn't  that  elegant?"  added  the  major,  when 
he  had  finished. 

"It  sounds  well,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "But  what 
does  it  mean?  What's  futile?" 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      47 

"Futile?  What  does  futile  mean?"  said  the 
major,  slowly.  "Why,  it's— it's  a  word,  you 
know,  and  sort  of  stands  for  '  what's  the  use. '  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  Jimmieboy.  "  I  see.  To  be  futile 
means  that  you  are  wasting  time,  eh?" 

"That's  it,"  said  the  major.  "I'm  glad  you 
said  it  and  not  I,  because  that  makes  it  true.  If 
I'd  said  it,  it  wouldn't  have  been  so." 

"Well,  all  I've  got  to  say,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
"  is  that  if  anybody  ever  came  to  me  and  asked 
me  where  he  could  find  a  futile  person,  I'd  send 
him  over  to  you.  Here  we've  wasted  nearly  the 
whole  afternoon  and  we  haven't  got  a  single 
thing.  We  haven't  even  talked  of  anything  but 
peaches  and  cherries,  and  we've  got  to  get  jam 
and  sugar  and  almonds  yet." 

Here  the  major  smiled. 

"It  isn't  any  laughing  matter,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. "It's  a  very  serious  piece  of  business,  in 
fact.  Here's  this  Parawelopipedon  going  around 
ruining  everything  he  can  lay  his  claws  on,  and 
instead  of  helping  me  out  of  the  fix  I'm  in,  and 
starting  the  expedition  off,  you  sit  here  and  tell 
me  about  Apogees  and  other  things  I  haven't 
time  to  hear  about." 

"I  was  only  smiling  to  show  how  sorry  I  was," 
said  the  major,  apologetically. 


iS  IN  CAMP  WITH  A   TIN  SOLDIER. 

"  I  always  smile  when  I  am  sad, 

And  when  I'm  filled  with  glee 
A  solitary  tear-drop  trick- 
Les  down  the  cheek  of  me." 

"Oh,  that's  it,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Well,  lot's 
stop  fooling  now  and  get  those  supplies." 

"All  right,"  assented  the  major.  "Where  are 
the  soldiers  who  accompanied  you?  We'll  give 
'em  their  orders,  and  you'll  have  the  supplies  in 
no  time." 

"How's  that?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 

"Why,  don't  you  see,"  said  the  major,  "that's 
the  nice  thing  about  being  a  general.  If  you 
have  to  do  something  you  don't  know  how  to  do, 
you  command  your  men  to  go  and  do  it.  That 
lifts  the  responsibility  from  your  shoulders  to 
theirs.  They  don't  dare  disobey,  and  there  you 
are." 

"Good  enough!"  cried  Jimmieboy,  delighted 
to  find  so  easy  a  way  out  of  his  troubles.  "  I'll 
give  them  their  orders  at  once.  I'll  tell  them  to 
get  the  supplies.  Will  they  surely  do  it?" 

"  They'll  have  to,  or  be  put  in  the  guard-house," 
returned  the  major.  "And  they  don't  like  that, 
you  know,  because  the  guard-house  hasn't  any 
walls,  and  it's  awfully  draughty.  But,  as  I  said 
before,  where  are  the  soldiers?" 


MAJOR  BLUEFACE  TRIES  TO  ASSIST.      49 

"Why!"  said  Jimmieboy/ starting  up  and 
looking  anxiously  about  him.  "They've  gone, 
haven't  they?" 

"They  seem  to  have,"  said  the  major,  putting 
his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  gazing  up  and  down 
the  road,  upon  which  no  sign  of  Jimmieboy 's 
command  was  visible.  "You  ordered  them  to 
halt  when  you  sat  down  here,  didn't  you?" 

"No,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "I  didn't." 

"Then  that  accounts  for  it,"  returned  the 
major,  with  a  scornful  glance  at  Jimmieboy. 
"They've  gone  on.  They  couldn't  halt  without 
orders,  and  they  must  be  eight  miles  from  here 
by  this  time." 

"What  '11  happen?"  asked  the  boy,  anxiously. 

"  What  '11  happen  ?"  echoed  the  major.  "  Why, 
they'll  march  on  forever  unless  you  get  word 
to  them  to  halt.  You  are  a  gay  general,  you 
are." 

"But  what's  to  be  done?"  asked  Jimmieboy, 
growing  tearful. 

"There  are  only  two  things  you  can  do.  The 
earth  is  round,  and  in  a  few  years  they'll  pass  this 
way  again,  and  then  you  can  tell  them  to  stop. 
That's  one  thing  you  can  do.  The  second  is  to 
despatch  me  on  horseback  to  overtake  and  tell 
them  to  keep  right  on.  They'll  know  what  you 


50  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

mean,  and  they'll  halt  and  wait  until  you  come 
up." 

"That's  the  best  plan,"  cried  Jimmieboy,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief.  "You  hurry  ahead  and  make 
them  wait  for  me,  and  I'll  come  along  as  fast  as 
I  can." 

So  the  major  mounted  his  horse  and  galloped 
away,  leaving  Jimmieboy  alone  in  the  road, 
trudging  manfully  ahead  as  fast  as  his  small 
legs  could  carry  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

JIMMIEBOY   MEETS   1HE   ENEMY. 

AS  the  noise  made  by  the  clattering  hoofs  of 
Major  Blueface's  horse  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  and  finally  died  away  entirely  in  the  dis- 
tance, Jimmieboy  was  a  little  startled  to  hear 
something  that  sounded  very  like  a  hiss  in  the 
trees  behind  him.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  the 
light  breeze  blowing  through  the  branches,  mak- 
ing the  leaves  rustle,  but  when  it  was  repeated 
he  stopped  short  in  the  road  and  glanced  back- 
ward, grasping  his  sword  as  he  did  so. 

"Hello  there!"  he  cried.  "Who  are  you,  and 
what  do  you  want?" 

"Sh-sh-sh!"  answered  the  mysterious  some- 
thing. "Don't  talk  so  Imid,  general,  the  major 
may  come  back." 

"  What  if  he  does?"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  I  rather 
think  I  wish  he  would.  I  don't  know  whether 
or  not  I'm  big  enough  not  to  be  afraid  of  you. 
Can't  you  come-  out  of  the  bushes  and  let  me  see 
you  ?" 


52  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Not  unless  the  major  is  out  of  sight,"  was  the 
answer.  "I  can't  stand  the  major;  but  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  me.  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for 
all  the  world.  I'm  the  enemy." 

"The  what?"  cried  Jimmieboy,  aghast. 

"I'm  the  enemy,"  replied  the  invisible  object. 
"That's  what  I  call  myself  when  I'm  with  sensi- 
ble people.  Other  people  have  a  long  name  for 
me  that  I  never  could  pronounce  or  spell.  I'm 
the  animal  that  got  away." 

"  Not  the  Parallelopipedon  ?"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"That's  it!  That's  the  name  I  can't  pro- 
nounce," said  the  invisible  animal.  "I'm  the 
Parallelandsoforth,  and  I've  been  trying  to  have 
an  interview  with  you  ever  since  I  heard  they'd 
made  you  general.  The  fact  is,  Jimmieboy,  I 
am  very  anxious  that  you  should  succeed  in  cap- 
turing me,  because  I  don't  like  it  out  here  very 
much.  The  fences  are  the  toughest  eating  I  ever 
had,  and  I  actually  sprained  my  wisdom-tooth  at 
breakfast  this  morning  trying  to  bite  a  brown 
stone  ball  off  the  top  of  a  gate  post." 

"But  if  you  feel  that  way,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
somewhat  surprised  at  this  unusual  occurrence, 
"why  don't  you  surrender?" 

"Me?"  cried  the  Parallelopipedon.  "A  Parallel- 
andsoforth of  my  standing  surrender  right  on 


JIMMIEBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  53 

the  eve  of  a  battle  that  means  all  the  sweetmeats 
I  can  eat,  and  more  too?  I  guess  not." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  you,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
earnestly.  "I  don't  like  standing  here  talking 
to  a  wee  little  voice  with  nothing  to  him.  Why 
don't  you  come  out  here  where  I  can  see  you?" 

"It's  for  your  good,  Jimmieboy;  that's  why  I 
stay  in  here.  I  am  an  awful  spectacle.  Why,  it 
puts  me  all  in  a  tremble  just  to  look  at  myself ; 
and  if  it  affects  me  that  way,  just  think  how  it 
would  be  with  you." 

"I  wouldn't  be  afraid,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
bravely. 

"Yes,  you  would  too,"  answered  the  Parallelo- 
pipedon.  "You'd  be  so  scared  you  couldn't 
run,  I  am  so  ugly.  Didn't  the  major  tell  you 
that  story  about  my  reflection  in  the  looking- 
glass?" 

"No,"  answered  Jimmieboy.  "He  didn't  say- 
any  thing  about  it." 

"That's  queer.  The  story  is  in  rhyme,  and  the 
major  always  tells  everybody  all  the  poetry  he 
knows,"  said  the  invisible  enemy.  "  That's  why 
I  never  go  near  him.  He  has  only  enough  to  last 
one  year,  and  the  second  year  he  tells  it  all  over 
again.  I'm  surprised  he  never  told  you  about 
my  reflection  in  the  mirror,  because  it  is  one  of 


54  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

his  worst,  and  he  always  likes  them  better  than 
the  others." 

"  I'll  ask  him  to  tell  it  to  me  next  time  I  see 
him,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "unless  you'll  tell  it  to 
me  now." 

"I'd  just  as  lief  tell  you,"  said  the  Parallelopip- 
edon.  "Only  you  mustn't  laugh  or  cry,  because 
you  haven't  time  to  laugh,  and  generals  never 
cry.  This  is  the  way  it  goes : 

"  THE  PARALLELOPIPEDON  AND  THE  MIRROR. 

The  Parallelopipedon  so  very  ugly  is, 

His  own   heart  fills  with   terror  when  he   looks   upon  his 

phiz 
That's  why  he  wears  blue  goggles— twenty  pairs  upon  his 

nose, 
And   never   dares    to   show    himself,   no    matter   where   he 

goes. 

One  day  when  he   was  walking    down    a   crowded   village 

street, 

He  looked  into  a  little  shop  where  stood  a  mirror  neat. 
He  saw  his  own  reflection  there  as  plain  as  plain  could  be  ; 
And  said,  '  I'd  give  four  dollars  if  that  really  wasn't  me.' 

And,  strange  to  say,  the  figure  in  the  mirror's  silver  face 
Was  also  filled  with  terror  at  the  other's  lack  of  grace  ; 
And  this  reflection   trembled  till  it  strangely  came  to  pass 
The  handsome  mirror  shivered  to  ten  thousand  bits  of  glass. 

To  this  tale  there's  a  moral,  and  that  moral  briefly  is: 
If  you  perchance  are  burdened  with  a  terrifying  phiz, 
Don't  look  into  your  mirror— 'tis  a  fearful  risk  to  take — 
'Tis  certain  sure  to  happen  that  the  mirror  it  will  break." 


JIMM1EBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  55 

"Well,  if  that's  so,  I  guess  I  don't  want  to 
see  you,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  only  like  pretty 
things.  But  tell  me ;  if  all  this  is  true,  how  did 
the  major  come  to  say  it?  I  thought  he  couldn't 
tell  the  truth." 

"  That's  only  as  a  rule.  Rules  have  exceptions. 
For  instance,"  explained  the  Parallelopipedon, 
"as  a  rule  I  can't  pronounce  my  name,  but  in  re- 
citing that  poem  to  you  1  did  speak  my  name  in 
the  very  first  line— but  if  you  only  knew  how  it 
hurt  me  to  do  it!  Oh  dear  me,  how  it  hurt! 
Did  you  ever  have  a  tooth  pulled?" 

"Once,"  said  Jimmieboy,  wincing  at  the  re- 
membrance of  his  painful  experience. 

"  Well,  pronouncing  my  name  is  to  me  worse 
than  having  all  my  teeth  pulled  and  then  put 
back  again,  and  except  when  I  get  hold  of  a  fine 
general  like  you  I  never  make  the  sacrifice,"  said 
the  Parallelopipedon.  "But  tell  me,  Jimmieboy, 
you  are  out  after  preserved  cherries  and  pickled 
peaches,  I  understand?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "And  powdered 
sugar,  almonds,  jam,  and  several  other  things 
that  are  large  and  elegant." 

"Well,  just  let  me  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  the 
Parallelopipedon,  confidentially.  "  I'm  so  sick  of 
cherries  and  peaches  that  I  run  every  time  I  see 


56  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

them,  and  when  I  run  there  is  no  tin  soldier  or 
general  of  your  size  in  the  world  that  can  catch 
me.  Now  what  are  we  here  for?  I  am  here  to  be 
captured ;  you  are  here  to  capture  me.  To  accom- 
plish our  various  purposes  we've  got  to  begin 
right,  and  you  might  as  well  understand  now  as 
at  any  other  time  that  you  are  beginning  wrong." 

"I  don't  know  what  else  to  do,"  said  Jimmie* 
boy.  "  I'm  obeying  orders.  The  colonel  told  ma 
to  get  those  things,  and  I  supposed  I  ought  to  get 
'em." 

"It  doesn't  pay  to  suppose,"  said  the  Parallelo- 
pipedon.  "Many  a  victory  has  been  lost  by  a 
supposition.  As  that  old  idiot  Major  Blueface 
said  once,  when  he  tried  to  tell  an  untruth,  and 
so  hit  the  truth  by  mistake : 

'  Success  always  comes  to 

The  mortal  who  knowsv 
And  never  to  him  who 
Does  naught  but  suppose. 

For  knowledge  is  certain, 

While  hypothesees 
Oft  drop  defeat's  curtain 

On  great  victories. '  " 

"What  are  hypothesees?'1  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"They  are  ifs  in  words  of  four  syllables,"  said 
the  Parallelopipedon,  "and  you  want  to  steer 
clear  of  them  as  much  as  you  can." 


JIMMIEBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  57 

"I'll  try  to,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "But  how  am  I 
to  get  knowledge  instead  of  hypotheseeses?  I 
have  to  take  what  people  tell  me.  I  don't  know 
everything. " 

"Well,  that's  only  natural,"  said  the  Parallelo- 
pipedon,  kindly.  "  There  are  only  two  creatures 
about  here  that  do  know  everything.  They — be- 
tween you  and  me — are  me  and  myself.  The 
others  you  meet  here  don't  even  begin  to  know 
everything,  though  they'll  try  to  make  you  be- 
lieve they  do.  Now  I  dare  say  that  tin  colonel  of 
yours  would  try  to  make  you  believe  that  water 
is  wet,  and  that  fire  is  hot,  and  other  things  like 
that.  Well,  they  are,  but  he  doesn't  know  it. 
He  only  thinks  it.  He  has  put  his  hand  into  a 
pail  of  water  and  found  out  that  it  was  wet,  but 
he  doesn't  know  why  it  is  wet  any  more  than 
he  knows  why  fire  is  hot." 

"Do  you?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 

"Certainly,"  returned  the  Parallelopipedon. 
"  Water  is  wet  because  it  is  water,  and  fire  is  hot 
because  it  wouldn't  be  fire  if  it  wasn't  hot.  Oh, 
it  takes  brains  to  know  everything,  Jimmieboy, 
and  if  there's  one  thing  old  Colonel  Zinc  hasn't 
got,  it's  brains.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  cut  his 
head  off  some  day  and  see  for  yourself.  You 
won't  find  a  whole  brain  in  his  head." 


58  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"It  must  be  nice  to  know  everything,"  said 
Jimmieboy. 

"It's  pretty  nice,"  said  the  Parallelopipedon. 
cautiously.  "  But  it's  not  always  the  nicest  tiling 
in  the  world.  If  you  are  off  on  a  long  journey, 
for  instance,  it's  awfully  hard  work  to  carry  all 
you  know  along  with  you.  It  has  given  me  a 
headache  many  a  time,  I  can  tell  you.  Some- 
times I  wish  I  did  like  your  papa,  and  kept  all  I 
know  in  books  instead  of  in  my  head.  It's  a 
great  deal  better  to  do  things  that  way;  then, 
when  you  go  travelling,  and  have  to  take  what 
you  know  along  with  you,  you  can  just  pack  it 
up  in  a  trunk  and  make  the  railroad  people  carry 
it." 

"Do  you  know  what's  going  to  happen  to-mor- 
row and  the  next  day?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  gaz- 
ing in  rapt  admiration  at  the  spot  whence  the 
voice  proceeded. 

"Yes,  indeed.  That's  just  where  the  great 
trouble  comes  in,"  answered  the  Parallelopipe- 
don. "It  isn't  so  much  bother  to  know  what  has 
been — what  everybody  knows — but  when  you 
have  to  store  up  in  your  mind  thousands  and 
millions  of  things  that  aren't  so  now,  but  have 
got  to  be  so  some  day,  it's  positively  awful. 
Why,  Jimmieboy,"  he  said,  impressively,  "you'd 


JIMMIEBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  59 

be  terrified  if  I  told  you  what  is  going  to  be 
known  by  the  time  you  go  to  school ;  it's  awful 
to  think  of  all  the  things  you  will  have  to  learn 
then  that  aren't  things  yet,  but  are  going  to  be 
within  a  year  or  two.  I'm  real  sorry  for  the  lit- 
tle boys  who  will  live  a  hundred  years  from  now, 
when  I  think  of  all  the  history  they  will  have  to 
learn  when  they  go  to  school — history  that  isn't 
made  yet.  Just  take  the  Presidents  of  the  United 
States,  for  instance.  In  George  Washington's 
time  it  didn't  take  a  boy  five  seconds  to  learn  the 
list  of  Presidents ;  but  think  of  that  list  to-day ! 
Why,  there  are  twenty-five  names  on  it  now,  and 
more  to  come.  It  gets  harder  every  year.  Now 
I — I  know  the  names  of  all  the  Presidents  there's 
ever  going  to  be,  and  it  would  take  me  just 
eighteen  million  nine  hundred  and  sixty-seven 
years,  eleven  months  and  twenty-six  days,  four 
hours  and  twenty-eight  minutes  to  tell  you  all 
of  them,  and  even  then  I  wouldn't  be  half 
through." 

"Why,  it's  terrible,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Yes,  indeed  it  is,"  returned  the  Parallelopipe- 
don.  "  You  ought  to  be  glad  you  are  a  little  boy 
now  instead  of  having  to  wait  until  then.  The 
boys  of  the  year  10,605,726,422  are  going  to  have 
the  hardest  time  in  the  world  learning  things, 


60  IZV  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

and  I  don't  believe  they'll  get  through  going  to 
school  much  before  they're  ninety  years  old." 

"I  guess  the  colonel  is  glad  he  doesn't  know 
all  that,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "if  it's  so  hard  to  carry 
it  around  with  you." 

"Indeed  he  ought  to  be,  if  he  isn't,"  ejaculated 
the  Paralleopipedon.  "There's  no  two  ways 
about  it ;  if  he  had  the  weight  of  one  half  of  what 
I  know  on  his  shoulders,  it  would  bend  him  in 
two  and  squash  him  into  a  piece  of  tin-foil." 

"Say,"  said  Jimmieboy,  after  a  moment's 
pause.  "I  heard  my  papa  say  he  thought  I 
might  be  President  of  the  United  States  some 
day.  If  you  know  all  the  names  of  the  Presi- 
dents that  are  to  come,  tell  me,  will  I  be?" 

"I  don't  remember  any  name  like  Jimmieboy 
on  the  list,"  said  the  Parallelopipedon ;  "but  that 
doesn't  prove  anything.  You  might  get  elected 
on  your  last  name.  But  don't  let's  talk  about 
that— that's  politics,  and  I  don't  like  politics. 
What  I  want  to  know  is,  do  you  really  want  to 
capture  me?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Then  you'd  better  give  up  trying  to  get  the 
peaches  and  cherries,"  said  the  Parallelopipedon, 
firmly.  "I  won't  have  'em.  You  can  shoot 
'em  at  me  at  the  rate  of  a  can  a  minute  for 


JIMMIEBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  61 

ninety-seven  years,  and  I'll  never  surrender. 
I  hate  'em." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do,  then  ?"  queried  the  little 
general,  "What  must  I  do  to  capture  you?" 

"Get  something  in  the  place  of  the  cherries 
and  peaches  that  I  like,  that's  all.  Very  simple 
matter,  that." 

"But  I  don't  know  what  you  like," said  Jim- 
mieboy.  "I  never  took  lunch  with  you." 

"No— and  you  never  will."  answered  the 
Parallelopipedon.  "  And  for  a  very  good  reason. 
I  never  eat  lunch,  breakfast,  tea,  or  supper.  I 
never  eat  anything  but  dinner,  and  I  eat  that 
four  times  a  day." 

Jimmieboy  laughed,  half  with  mirth  at  the  od- 
dity of  the  Parallelopipedon's  habit  of  eating, 
and  half  with  the  pleasure  it  gave  him  to  think  of 
what  a  delectable  habit  it  was.  Four  dinners  a 
day  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  height  of  bliss,  and 
he  almost  wished  he  too  were  a  Parallelopipedon, 
that  he  might  enjoy  the  same  privilege. 

"Don't  you  ever  eat  between  meals?"  he  asked, 
after  a  minute  of  silence. 

"Never,"  said  the  Parallelopipedon.  "Never. 
There  isn't  time  for  it  in  the  first  place,  and  in 
the  second  there's  never  anything  left  between 
meals  for  me  to  eat.  But  if  you  had  ever  dined 


62  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

with  me  you'd  know  mighty  well  what  I  like, 
for  I  always  have  the  same  thing  at  every  single 
dinner — two  platefuls  of  each  thing.  It's  a  fine 
plan,  that  of  having  the  same  dishes  at  every 
dinner,  day  after  day.  Your  stomach  always 
knows  what  to  expect,  and  is  ready  for  it,  so 
you  don't  get  cholera  morbus.  If  you  want  me 
to,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  always  have,  and  what  you 
must  get  me  before  you  can  coax  me  back. " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I'll  be  very 
much  obliged." 

And  then  the  Parallelopipedon  recited  the  fol- 
lowing delicious  bill  of  fare  for  the  young 
general. 

"THE  PAIULLELOPIPEDON'S  DINNER. 

First  bring  on  a  spring  inock-turtle 

Stuffed  with  chestnuts  roasted  through, 

Served  in  gravy  ;  then  a  fertile 
Steaming  bowl  of  oyster  stew. 

Then  about  six  dozen  tartlets 

Full  of  huckleberry  jam, 
Edges  trimmed  with  juicy  Bartletts — 

Pears,  these  latter — then  some  ham. 

Follow  these  with  cauliflower, 

Soaked  in  maple  syrup  sweet ; 
Then  an  applo  large  and  sour, 

And  a  rich  red  rosy  beet. 


JIMMIEBOY  MEETS  THE  ENEMY.  63 

Then  eight  quarts  of  cream— vaiiilla 

Is  the  flavor  1  like  best — 
Acts  sublimely  as  a  chiller, 

Gives  your  fevered  system  rest. 

After  this  a  pint  of  coffee, 

Forty  jars  of  marmalade, 
And  a  pound  of  peanut  toffee, 

Then  a  pumpkin  pie — home-made. 

Top  this  off  with  pickled  salmon, 

Cold  roast  beef,  and  eat  it  four 
Times  each  day,  and  ghastly  famine 

Ne'er  will  enter  at  your  door." 

"H'm!  h'm!  h'm!"  cried  Jimmieboy,  danc- 
ing up  and  down,  and  clapping  his  hands  with 
delight  at  the  very  thought  of  such  a  meal.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  eat  that  four  times  a 
day?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Parallelopipedon,  "I  do.  In 
fact,  general,  it  is  that  that  has  made  me  what  I 
am.  I  was  originally  a  Parallelogram,  and  I  ate 
that  four  times  a  day,  and  it  kept  doubling  me 
up  until  I  became  six  Parallelograms  as  I  am  to- 
day. Get  me  those  things — enough  of  them  to 
enable  me  to  have  'em  five  times  a  day,  and  I 
surrender.  Without  them,  I  go  on  and  stay  es- 
caped forever,  and  the  longer  I  stay  escaped,  the 
worse  it  will  be  for  these  people  who  live  about 
here,  for  I  shall  devastate  the  country  t  I  shall 


64  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

chew  up  all  the  mowing-machines  in  Picture- 
land.  I'll  bite  the  smoke-stack  off  every  rail- 
way engine  I  encounter,  and  throw  it  into 
the  smoking  car,  where  it  really  belongs.  I'll 
drink  all  the  water  in  the  wells.  I'll  pull  up  all 
the  cellars  by  the  roots ;  I  may  even  go  so  far  as 
to  run  down  into  your  nursery,  and  gnaw  into 
the  wire  that  holds  this  picture  country  upon 
the  wall,  and  let  it  drop  into  the  water  pitcher. 
But,  oh  dear,  there's  the  major  coming  down  the 
road!"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  alarm.  "I  must 
go,  or  he'll  insist  on  telling  me  a  poem.  But 
remember  what  I  say,  my  boy,  and  beware!  I'll 
do  all  I  threaten  to  do  if  you  don't  do  what  I 
tell  you.  Good-by!" 

There  was  a  slight  rustling  among  the  leaves, 
and  the  Parallelopipedon's  voice  died  away  as 
Major  Blueface  came  galloping  up  astride  of  his 
panting,  lather-covered  steed. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   MAJOR   RETURNS. 

'^1  X  7" ELL,"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  the  major  dis~ 
V  V  mounted,  "did  you  catch  up  with  them?" 

"No,  I  didn't,"  returned  the  major,  evidently 
much  excited.  "  I  should  have  caught  them  but 
for  a  dreadful  encounter  I  had  up  the  road,  for 
between  you  and  me,  Jimmieboy,  1  have  had  a 
terrible  adventure  since  I  saw  you  last,  and  the 
soldiers  I  went  to  order  back  have  been  destroyed 
to  the  very  last  man." 

"Dear  me!"  cried  Jimmieboy.  "I  am  glad  I 
didn't  go  with  you.  What  happened?" 

"  I  was  attacked  about  four  miles  up  the  road 
by  a  tremendous  sixty-pound  Quandary,  and  I 
was  nearly  killed,"  said  the  major.  "The  sol- 
diers had  only  got  four  and  a  half  miles  on  their 
way,  and  hearing  the  disturbance  and  my  cries 
for  help  they  hastened  to  the  rescue,  and  were 
simply  an-ni-hi-lated,  which  is  old  English  for 
all  mashed  to  pieces." 


66  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"But  how  did  you  escape?"  said  the  boy. 

"Oh,  I  had  a  way,  and  it  worked,  that's  all. 
I'm  the  safest  soldier  in  the  world,  I  am.  You 
can  capture  me  eight  times  a  day,  but  I  am 
always  sure  to  escape,"  said  the  major,  proudly. 
"But,  my  dear  general,  how  is  it  that  you  do  not 
tremble?  Are  you  not  aware  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances you  ought  to  be  a  badly  frightened 
warrior?" 

"  I  don't  tremble,  because  I  don't  know  whether 
you  are  telling  the  truth  or  not,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"Besides,  I  never  saw  a  Quandary,  and  so  I 
can't  tell  how  terrible  he  is.  Is  he  dreadful?" 

"He's  more  than  dreadful,"  returned  the 
major.  "  No  word  of  two  syllables  expresses  his 
dreadfulness.  He  is  simply  calamitous;  and  if 
there  was  a  longer  word  in  the  dictionary  apply- 
ing to  his  case  I'd  use  it,  if  it  took  all  my  front 
teeth  out  to  say  it. " 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "but 
you  can't  make  me  shiver  with  fear  by  saying 
he's  calamitous.  What  does  he  do?  Bite?" 

"Bite?  Well,  I  guess  not,"  answered  the  major, 
scornfully.  "He  doesn't  need  to  bite.  Would 
you  bite  an  apple  if  you.  could  swallow  it  whole?" 

"I  think  I  would,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "How 
would  I  get  the  juice  of  it  if  I  didn't?" 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  67 

"You'd  get  just  as  much  juice  whether  you 
bit  it  or  not,"  snapped  the  major,  who  did  not 
at  all  like  Jimmieboy's  coolness  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. "The  Quandary  doesn't  bite  any- 
thing, because  his  mouth  is  so  large  there 
isn't  anything  he  can  bite.  He  just  takes  you 
as  you  stand,  gives  a  great  gulp,  and  there  you 
are." 

"Where?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  who  could  not 
quite  follow  the  major. 

"Wherever  you  happen  to  be,  of  course,"  said 
the  major,  gruffly.  "  You  aren't  a  very  sharp  gen- 
eral, it  seems  to  me.  You  don't  seem  to  be  able 
to  see  through  a  hole  with  a  millstone  in  it.  I 
have  to  explain  everything  to  you  just  as  if  you 
were  a  baby  or  a  school-teacher,  but  I  can  just 
tell  you  that  if  you  ever  were  attacked  by  a 
Quandary  you  wouldn't  like  it  much,  and  if  he 
ever  swallowed  you  you'd  be  a  mighty  lonesome 
general  for  a  little  while.  You'd  be  a  regular 
land  Jonah." 

"Don't  get  mad  at  me,  major,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy, clapping  his  companion  on  the  back.  "I'll 
be  frightened  if  you  want  me  to.  Br-rr-rrr-rrr- 
rrrrr !  There,  is  that  the  kind  of  a  tremble  you 
want  me  to  have?" 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  the  major  replied,  his  face 


68  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

clearing  and  his  smile  returning.  "I  am  very 
much  obliged;  and  now  to  show  you  that  you 
haven't  made  any  mistake  in  getting  frightened, 
I'll  tell  you  what  a  Quandary  is,  and  what  he  has 
done,  and  how  I  managed  to  escape;  and  as 
poetry  is  the  easiest  method  for  me  to  express 
my  thoughts  with,  I'll  put  it  all  in  rhyme. 

"THE  QUANDARY. 

He  is  a  fearful  animal, 

That  qnaint  old  Quandary — 
A  cousin  of  the  tragical 
And  whimsically  magical 

Dilemma-bird  is  lie. 

He  has  an  eye  that's  wonderful — 

Tis  like  a  public  school: 
It  has  a  thousand  dutiful, 
Though  scarcely  any  beautiful, 

Small  pupils  'neath  its  rule. 

And  every  pupil— marvelous 

Indeed,  sir,  to  relate  — 
When  man  becomes  contiguous, 
Makes  certainty  ambiguous— 

Which  is  unfortunate. 

For  when  this  ambiguity 

Has  seized  upon  his  prize, 
Whate'er  man  tries,  to  do  it  he 
Will  find  when  he  is  through  it,  he 

Had  best  done  otherwise. 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  69 

And  hence  it  is  this  animal, 

Of  which  I  sing  my  song, 
This  creature  reprehensible, 
Is  held  by  persons  sensible 

Responsible  for  wrong. 

So  if  a  friend  or  foe  you  see 

Departing  from  his  aim, 
Be  full,  I  pray,  of  charity — 
He  may  have  met  the  Quandary, 

And  so  is  not  to  blame." 

"  That  is  very  pretty,"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  the 
major  finished;  "but,  do  you  know,  major,  I 
don't  understand  one  word  of  it." 

Much  to  Jimmieboy 's  surprise  the  major  was 
pleased  at  this  remark. 

"Thank  you,  Jimmieboy,"  he  said.  "That 
proves  that  I  am  a  true  poet.  I  think  there's 
some  meaning  in  those  lines,  but  it's  so  long 
since  I  wrote  them  that  I  have  forgotten  exactly 
what  I  did  mean,  and  it's  that  very  thing  that 
makes  a  poem  out  of  the  verses.  Poetry  is  noth- 
ing but  riddles  in  rhyme.  You  have  to  guess 
what  is  meant  by  the  lines,  and  the  harder  that 
is,  the  greater  the  poem." 

"But  I  don't  see  much  use  of  it,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. "Riddles  are  fun  sometimes,  but  poetry 
isn't." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  the  major    "  But  poetry 


70  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

has  its  uses.  If  it  wasn't  for  poetry,  the  poets 
couldn't  make  a  living,  or  if  they  did,  they'd  have 
to  go  into  some  other  business,  and  most  other 
businesses  are  crowded  as  it  is." 

"  Do  people  ever  make  a  living  writing  poetry?" 
Jimmieboy  asked. 

"  Once  in  a  while.  I  knew  a  man  once  who  did. 
He  called  himself  the  Grocer-Poet,  because  he 
was  a  grocer  in  the  day-time  and  a  poet  at  night. 
He  sold  every  poem  he  wrote,  too,"  said  the 
major. 

"To  a  newspaper?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  major.  "He  bought  'em 
from  himself.  When  he'd  wake  up  in  the  morn- 
ing as  a  grocer  he'd  read  what  he  had  written 
the  night  before  as  a  poet,  and  then  he'd  buy 
the  verses  from  himself  and  throw  them  into  the 
fire.  But  to  return  to  the  Quandary.  He  has 
awfully  bad  manners.  He  stares  you  right  in  the 
face  whenever  he  meets  you,  and  no  matter  what 
you  want  to  do  he  tries  to  force  you  to  do  the 
other  thing.  The  only  way  to  escape  him  is  not 
to  do  anything,  but  go  back  where  you  started 
from,  and  begin  all  over  again." 

"Where  did  you  meet  him?"  asked  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"Where?    Why,  where  he's    always  met,   of 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  71 

course,  at  a  fork  in  the  road.  That's  where  he 
gets  in  his  fine  work,"  said  the  major.  "  Suppose, 
for  instance,  you  were  out  for  a  stroll,  and  you 
thought  you'd  like  to  go— well,  say  to  Calcutta. 
You  stroll  along,  and  you  stroll  along,  and  you 
stroll  along.  Then  you  come  to  a  place  where  the 
road  splits,  one  half  going  to  the  right  and  one 
to  the  left,  or,  if  you  don't  like  right  and  left, 
we'll  say  one  going  to  Calcutta  by  way  of  Cape 
Horn,  and  the  other  going  to  Calcutta  by  way 
of  Greenland's  icy  mountains." 

"  It's  a  long  walk  either  way,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Yes.  It's  a  walk  that  isn't  often  taken," 
assented  the  major,  with  a  knowing  shake  of  the 
head.  "But  at  the  fork  of  this  road  the  Quandary 
attacks  you.  He  stops  you  and  says,  *  Which 
way  are  you  going  to  Calcutta?'  and  you  say, 
'  Well,  as  it  is  a  warm  day,  I  think  I'll  go  by  way 
of  Greenland's  icy  mountains.'  'No, 'says  the 
Quandary, '  you  won't  do  any  such  thing,  because 
it  may  snow.  You'd  better  go  the  other  way.' 
'Very  well,'  say  you,  'I'll  go  the  other  way, 
then.'  '  Why  do  you  do  that?'  queries  the  Quan- 
dary. '  If  it  should  grow  very  warm  you'd  be 
roasted  to  death.'  '  Then  I  don't  know  what  to 
do,'  say  you.  'What  is  the  matter  with  going 
both  ways?'  says  the  Quandary,  to  which  you 


72  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

reply,  *  How  can  I  do  that?'  '  Try  it  and  see,'  he 
answers.  Then,"  continued  the  major,  his  voice 
sinking  to  a  whisper — "then  you  do  try  it  and 
you  do  see,  unless  you  are  a  wise,  sagacious, 
sapient,  perspicacious,  astute,  canny,  penetrat- 
ing, needle-witted,  learned  man  of  wisdom  like 
myself  who  knows  a  thing  or  two.  In  that  case 
you  don't  try,  for  you  can  see  without  trying 
that  any  man  with  two  legs  who  tries  to  walk 
along  two  roads  leading  in  different  directions 
at  once  is  just  going  to  split  into  at  least  two 
halves  before  he  has  gone  twenty  miles,  and 
that  is  just  what  the  Quandary  wants  you  to 
do,  for  it's  over  such  horrible  spectacles  as  a 
man  divided  against  himself  that  he  gloats,  and 
when  he  is  through  gloating  he  swallows  what's 
left." 

"And  what  does  the  wise,  sagacious,  sappy, 
perspiring  man  of  wisdom  like  yourself  who 
knows  a  thing  or  two  do?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"I  didn't  say  sappy  or  perspiring,"  retorted  the 
major.  "  I  said  sapient  and  perspicacious. " 

"Well,  anyhow,  what  does  he  do?"  asked  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"He  gives  up  going  to  Calcutta,"  observed  the 
major. 

"  Oh,  I  see.     To  gain  a  victory  over  the  Quan- 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  73 

dary    you    turn   and    run    away?"   asked   Jim- 
mieboy. 

"Yes,  that's  it.  That's  what  saved  rue.  I  cried 
for  help,  turned  about,  and  ran  back  here,  and  I 
can  tell  you  it  takes  a  brave  man  to  turn  his 
back  on  an  enemy,"  said  the  majoi. 

"And  why  didn't  the  soldiers  do  it  too?" 
queried  Jimmieboy. 

"  There  wasn't  anybody  to  order  a  retreat,  so 
when  the  Quandary  attacked  them  they  marched 
right  on,  single  file,  and  every  one  of  'em  split 
in  two,  fell  in  a  heap,  and  died." 

"  But  I  should  think  you  would  have  ordered 
them  to  halt,"  insisted  Jimmieboy. 

"I  had  no  power  to  do  so,"  the  major  replied. 
"  If  I  had  only  had  the  power,  I  might  have  saved 
their  lives  by  ordering  them  to  march  two  by 
two  instead  of  single  file,  and  then  when  they 
met  the  Quandary  they  could  have  gone  right 
ahead,  the  left-hand  men  taking  the  left-hand 
road,  the  right-hand  men  the  right,  but  of  course 
I  only  had  orders  to  tell  them  to  come  back  nere, 
and  a  soldier  can  only  obey  his  orders.  It  was 
awful  the  way  those  noble  lives  were  sacrifi— " 

Here  Jimmieboy  started  to  his  feet  with  a  cry 
of  alarm.  There  were  unmistakable  sounds  of 
approaching  footsteps. 


74  7^  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Somebody  or  something  is  coming,"  he  cried. 

"Oh,  no,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  major,  getting 
red  in  the  face,  for  he  recognized,  as  Jimmieboy 
did  not,  the  firm,  steady  tread  of  the  returning 
soldiers  whom  he  had  told  Jimmieboy  the  Quan- 
dary had  annihilated.  "  It's  only  the  drum  of  your 
ear  you  hear,"  he  added.  "You  know  you  have 
a  drum  in  your  ear,  and  every  once  in  a  while  it 
begins  its  rub-a-dub -dub  just  like  any  other  drum. 
Oh,  no,  you  don't  hear  anybody  coming.  Let's 
take  a  walk  into  the  forest  here  and  see  if  we 
can't  find  a  few  pipe  plants.  I  think  I'd  like  to 
have  a  smoke." 

"Why,  you  naughty  major!"  cried  Jimmieboy, 
shaking  his  arm,  which  his  companion  had 
taken,  free  from  the  major's  grasp.  "You've 
been  telling  me  a  great  big  fib,  because  there  are 
the  soldiers  coming  back  again." 

"What!"  ejaculated  the  major,  in  well-affected 
surprise.  "  Well,  I  declare !  So  they  are.  Dear 
me !  Why,  do  you  know,  general,  that  is  the 
most  marvelous  cure  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  To 
think  that  all  those  men  whom  I  saw  not  an 
hour  ago  lying  dead  on  the  field  of  battle,  all 
ready  for  the  Quandary's  luncheon,  should  have 
been  resusticated  in  so  short  a  time,  as — " 

"Halt!"   roared  Jimmieboy,  interrupting  the 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  75 

major  in  a  most  unceremonious  fashion,  for  the 
soldiers  by  this  time  had  reached  a  point  in  the 
road  directly  opposite  where  he  was  sitting. 

The  soldiers  halted. 

"Break  ranks!"  cried  Jimmieboy,  after  the 
corporal  had  told  him  the  proper  order  to  give 
next. 

The  soldiers  broke  ranks,  and  in  sheer  weari- 
ness threw  themselves  down  on  the  soft  turf  at 
the  side  of  the  road— all  except  the  corporal, 
who  at  Jimmieboy's  request  carne  and  sat  down 
at  the  general's  side  to  make  his  report. 

"This  is  fine  weather  we  are  having,  corporal," 
said  the  major,  winking  at  the  subordinate 
officer,  and  trying  to  make  him  understand  that 
the  less  he  said  about  the  major  the  better  it 
would  be  for  all  concerned. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  corporal.  "Better  for 
sleeping  than  for  military  duty,  eh,  major?" 

Here  the  major  grew  pale,  but  had  the  presence 
of  mind  to  remark  that  he  thought  it  might  rain 
in  time  for  tea. 

"There's  something  behind  all  this,"  thought 
Jimmieboy;  "and  I'm  going  to  know  what  it  all 
means." 

Then  he  said  aloud,  "You  have  had  a  very 
speedy  recovery,  corporal." 


76  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

Here  the  major  cleared  his  throat  more  loudly 
than  usual,  blushed  rosy  red,  and  winked  twice 
as  violently  at  the  corporal  as  before. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  my  poem  on  the  '  Cold  Tea 
River  in  China'?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  the  corporal,  "I  never  did,  and  I 
never  want  to." 

"Then  I  will  recite  it  for  you,"  said  the  major. 

"After  the  corporal  has  made  his  report, 
major,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"It  goes  this  way,"  continued  the  major,  pre- 
tending not  to  hear. 

"  Some  years  ago — 'way  back  in  '69 — a 
Friend  and  I  went  for  a  trip  through  China, 
That  pleasant  land  where  rules  King  Tommy  Chacg, 
Where  flows  the  silver  river  Yangtso-Wang — 

Through  fertile  fields,  through  sweetest-scented  bowers 
Of  creeping  vinous  vines  and  floral  flowers." 

"My  dear  major,"  interrupted  Jimmieboy,  "I 
do  not  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  much  as 
I  like  to  hear  your  poetry  I  must  listen  to  the 
report  of  the  corporal  first." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  returned  the  major,  observing 
that  the  corporal  had  taken  to  his  heels  as  soon 
as  he  had  begun  to  recite.  "  Very  well.  Let  the 
corporal  proceed." 

Jimmieboy  then  saw  for  the  first  time  that  the 
corporal  had  fled. 


THE  MAJOR  RETURNS.  77 

"Why,  where  is  he?"  he  asked. 
"I  do  not  know,"  returned  the  major,  coldly. 
"  I  fancy  he  has  gone  to  the  kitchen  to  cook  his 
report.     He  always  goes  off  when  I  recite." 

"Oh,  well,  never  mind,"  said  Jimmieboy,  no- 
ticing that  the  major  was  evidently  very  much 
hurt.  "Go  on  with  the  poem  about  'Cold  Tea 
River.'" 

"No,  I  shall  not,"  replied  the  major.     "I  shall 
not  do  it  for  two  reasons,  general,  unless  you  as 
my  superior  officer  command  rne  to  do  it,  and 
I  hope  you  will  not.     In  the  first  place,  you  have 
publicly  humiliated  me  in  the  presence  of  a  tin 
corporal,  an  inferior  in  rank,  and  consequently 
have  hurt  my  feelings  more  deeply  than  you 
imagine.     I  am  not  tall,  sir,  but  my  feelings  are 
deep  enough  to  be  injured  most  deeply,  and  in 
view  of  that  fact  I  prefer  to  say  nothing  more 
about  that  poem.     The  other  reason  is  that  there 
is  really  no  such  poem,  because  there  is  really  no 
such   a  stream   as  Cold  Tea    River    in    China, 
though  there  might  have  been  had  Nature  been 
as  poetic  and  fanciful  as  I,  for  it  is  as  easy  to 
conceive  of  a  river  having  its  source  in  the  land 
of  the  tea-trees,  and  having  its  waters  so  full  of 
the  essence  of  tea  gained  from  contact  with  the 
roots  of  those  trees,  that  to  all  intents  and  pur- 


78  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

poses  it  is  a  river  of  tea.  Had  you  permitted  me 
to  go  on  uninterrupted  I  should  have  made  up  a 
poem  on  that  subject,  and  might  possibly  by  this 
time  have  had  it  done,  but  as  it  is,  it  never  will 
be  composed.  If  you  will  permit  me  I  will  take 
a  horseback  ride  and  see  if  I  cannot  forget  the 
trials  of  this  memorable  day.  If  I  return  I  shall 
be  back,  but  otherwise  you  may  never  see  me 
again.  I  feel  so  badly  over  your  treatment  of 
me  that  I  may  be  rash  enough  to  commit  sui- 
cide by  jumping  into  a  smelting-pot  and  being 
moulded  over  again  into  a  piece  of  shot,  and  if  I 
do,  general,  if  I  do,  and  if  I  ever  get  into  battle 
and  am  fired  out  of  a  gun,  I  shall  seek  out  that 
corporal,  and  use  my  best  efforts  to  amputate  his 
head  off  so  quickly  that  he  won't  know  what  has 
happened  till  he  tries  to  think,  and  finds  he 
hasn't  anything  to  do  it  with." 

Breathing  which  horrible  threat,  the  major 
mounted  his  horse  and  galloped  madly  down  the 
road,  and  Jimmieboy,  not  knowing  whether  to  be 
sorry  or  amused,  started  on  a  search  for  the  cor- 
poral in  order  that  he  might  hear  his  report,  and 
gain,  if  possible,  some  solution  of  the  major's 
strange  conduct. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY. 

• 

JIMMIEBOY  had  not  long  to  search  for  the 
corporal.  He  found  that  worthy  in  a  very 
few  minutes, lying  fast  asleep  under  a  tree  some 
twenty  or  thirty  rods  down  the  road,  snoring 
away  as  if  his  life  depended  upon  it.  It  was 
quite  evident  that  the  poor  fellow  was  worn  out 
with  his  exertions,  and  Jimmieboy  respected  his 
weariness,  and  restrained  his  strong  impulse  to 
awaken  him. 

His  consideration  for  the  tired  soldier  was  not 
without  its  reward,  for  as  Jimmieboy  listened 
the  corporal's  snores  took  semblance  to  words, 
which,  as  he  remembered  them,  the  snores  of  his 
papa  in  the  early  morning  had  never  done. 
Indeed,  Jimmieboy  and  his  small  brother  Russ 
were  agreed  on  the  one  point  that  their  father's 
snores  were  about  the  most  uninteresting, 
uncalled  for,  unmeaning  sounds  in  the  world, 
which,  no  doubt,  was  why  they  made  it  a  point 


80  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

to  interrupt  them  on  every  possible  occasion. 

* 

The  novelty  of  the  present  situation  was  delight- 
ful to  the  little  general.  To  be  able  to  stand 
there  and  comprehend  what  it  was  the  corporal 
was  snoring  so  vociferously, was  most  pleasing, 
and  he  was  still  further  entertained  to  note  that 
it  was  nothing  less  than  a  rollicking  song  that 
was  having  its  sweetness  wasted  upon  the  desert 
air  by  the  sleeping  officer  before  him. 
This  is  the  song  that  Jimmieboy  heard: 

"I  would  not  be  a  man  of  peace, 

Oh,  no-ho-ho — not  I; 
But  give  me  battles  without  cease  ; 
Give  me  grim  war  with  no  release, 
Or  let  me  die-hi-hi. 

I  love  the  frightful  things  we  eat 

In  times  of  war-or-or ; 
The  biscuit  tough,  the  granite  meat, 
And  hard  green  apples  are  a  treat 

Which  I  adore-dor-dor. 

I  love  the  sound  of  roaring  guns 

Upon  my  e-e-ears, 
I  love  in  routs  the  lengthy  runs, 
I  do  not  mind  the  stupid  puns 

Of  dull-nil  grenadiers. 

I  should  not  weep  to  lose  a  limb, 

An  arm,  or  thumb-bnm-bum. 
I  laugh  with  glee  to  hear  the  zim 
Of  shells  that  make  my  chance  seem  slim 

Of  getting  safe  back  hum. 


THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY.  81 

Just  let  me  sniff  gunpowder  in 

My  nasal  fee-a-ture, 
And  I  will  ever  sine;  and  grin. 
To  me  sweet  music  is  the  din 

Of  war,  you  may  be  sure." 

''Well,  I  declare!"  cried  Jimmieboy.  "If  my 
dear  old  papa  could  snore  songs  like  that, 
wouldn't  I  let  him  sleep  mornings!" 

"He  does,"  snored  the  corporal.  "The  only 
trouble  is  he  doesn't  snore  as  clearly  as  I  do.  It 
takes  long  practice  to  become  a  fluent  snorer 
like  myself — that  is  to  say,  a  snorer  who  can  be 
understood  by  any  one  whatever  his  age,  nation, 
or  position  in  life.  That  song  I  have  just  snored 
for  you  could  be  understood  by  a  Zulu  just  as 
well  as  you  understood  it,  because  a  snore  is 
exactly  the  same  in  Zuluese  as  it  is  in  your  lan- 
guage or  any  other — in  which  respect  it  resem- 
bles a  cup  of  coffee  or  a  canary-bird." 

"  Are  you  still  snoring,  or  is  this  English  you 
are  speaking?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Snoring;  and  that  proves  just  what  I  said, 
for  you  understood  me  just  as  plainly  as  though 
I  had  spoken  in  English,"  returned  the  corporal, 
his  eyes  still  tightly  closed  in  sleep. 

"Snore  me  another  poem,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"  No,  I  won't  do  that ;  but  if  you  wish  me  to  I'll 
snore  you  a  fairy  tale,"  answered  the  corporal. 


82  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"That  will  be  lovely,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I love 
fairy  tales." 

"Very  well,"  observed  the  corporal,  turning 
over  on  his  back  and  throwing  his  head  back 
into  an  uncomfortable  position  so  that  he  could 
snore  more  loudly.  "  Here  goes.  Once  upon  a 
time  there  was  a  small  boy  named  Tom  whose 
parents  were  so  poor  and  so  honest  that  they 
could  not  afford  to  give  him  money  enough  to 
go  to  the  circus  when  it  came  to  town,  which 
made  him  very  wretched  and  unhappy,  because 
all  the  other  little  boys  who  lived  thereabouts 
were  more  fortunately  situated,  and  had  bought 
tickets  for  the  very  first  performance.  Tom 
cried  all  night  and  went  about  the  town  moan- 
ing all  day,  for  he  did  want  to  see  the  elephant 
whose  picture  was  on  the  fences  that  could  hold 
itself  up  on  its  hind  tail;  the  man  who  could 
toss  five-hundred-pound  cannon  balls  in  the  air 
and  catch  them  on  top  of  his  head  as  they  came 
down;  the  trick  horse  that  could  jump  over  a 
fence  forty  feet  high  without  disturbing  the  two- 
year-old  wonder  Pattycake  who  sat  in  a  rock- 
ing-chair on  his  back.  As  Tom  very  well  said, 
these  were  things  one  had  to  see  to  believe,  and 
now  they  were  coming,  and  just  because  he 
could  not  get  fifty  cents  he  could  not  see  them. 


THE  CORPORAVS  FAIRY  STORY.  83 

"Then  he  thought,  'Here!  why  can't  I  go  out 
into  the  world,  and  by  hard  work  earn  the  fifty 
cents  I  so  much  need  to  take  me  through  the 
doors  of  the  circus  tent  into  the  presence  of  these 
marvelous  creatures?' 

"  And  he  went  out  and  called  upon  a  great  law- 
yer and  asked  him  if  he  did  not  want  a  partner 
in  his  business  for  a  day,  but  the  lawyer  only 
laughed  and  told  him  to  go  to  the  doctor  and  ask 
him.  So  Tom  went  to  the  doctor,  and  the  doctor 
said  he  did  not  want  a  partner,  but  he  did  want  a 
boy  to  take  medicines  for  him  and  tell  him  what 
they  tasted  like,  and  he  promised  Tom  fifty  cents 
if  he  would  be  that  boy  for  a  day,  and  Tom  said 
he  would  try. 

"Then  the  doctor  got  out  his  medicine-chest 
and  gave  Tom  twelve  bottles  of  medicine,  and 
told  him  to  taste  each  one  of  them,  and  Tom 
tasted  two  of  them,  and  decided  that  he  would 
rather  do  without  the  circus  than  taste  the  rest, 
so  the  doctor  bade  him  farewell,  and  Tom  went 
to  look  for  something  else  to-  do.  As  he  walked 
disconsolately  down  the  street  and  saw  by  the 
clock  that  it  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  would  think  no  more  about 
the  circus,  but  would  go  home  and  study  arith- 
metic instead,  the  chance  of  his  being  able  to 


84  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

earn  the  fifty  cents  seemed  so  very  slight.  So  he 
turned  back,  and  was  about  to  go  to  his  home, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  another  circus  poster, 
which  showed  how  the  fiery,  untamed  giraffe 
caught  cocoanuts  in  his  mouth— the  cocoanuts 
being  fired  out  of  a  cannon  set  off  by  a  clown 
who  looked  as  if  he  could  make  a  joke  that  would 
make  an  owl  laugh.  This  was  too  much  for  Tom. 
He  couldn't  miss  that  without  at  least  making 
one  further  effort  to  earn  the  money  that  would 
pay  for  his  ticket. 

"  So  off  he  started  again  in  search  of  profitable 
employment.  He  had  not  gone  far  when  he  came 
to  a  crockery  shop,  and  on  stopping  to  look  in  the 
large  shop  window  at  the  beautiful  dishes  and 
graceful  soup  tureens  that  were  to  be  seen  there, 
he  saw  a  sign  on  which  was  written  in  great 
golden  letters  '  BOY  WANTED.'  Now  Tom 
could  not  read,  but  something  told  him  that  that 
sign  was  a  good  omen  for  him,  so  he  went  into 
the  shop  and  asked  if  they  had  any  work  that  a 
boy  of  his  size  could  do. 

" '  Yes,'  said  the  owner  of  the  shop.  *  We  want 
an  errand-boy.  Are  you  an  errand-boy?' 

"Tom  answered  bravely  that  he  thought  he 
was,  and  the  man  said  he  would  give  him  a  trial 
anyhow,  and  sent  him  off  on  a  sample  errand, 


THE  CORPORALS  FAIRY  STORY.  g5 

telling  him  that  if  he  did  that  one  properly,  he 
would  pay  him  fifty  cent  a  day  for  as  many  days 
as  he  kept  him,  giving  him  a  half  holiday  on  all 
circus-days.  Tom  was  delighted,  and  started  off 
gleefully  to  perform  the  sample  errand,  which 
was  to  take  a  basketful  of  china  plates  to  the 
house  of  a  rich  merchant  who  lived  four  miles 
back  in  the  country.  Bravely  the  little  fellow 
plodded  along  until  he  came  to  the  gate-way  of 
the  rich  man's  place,  when  so  overcome  was  he 
with  happiness  at  getting  something  to  do  that 
he  could  not  wait  to  get  the  gate  open,  but  leaped 
like  a  deer  clear  over  the  topmost  pickets.  But, 
alas !  his  very  happiness  was  his  ruin,  for  as  he 
landed  on  the  other  side  the  china  plates  flew  out 
of  the  basket  in  every  direction,  and  falling  on 
the  hard  gravel  path  were  broken  every  one." 

"  Dear  me !"  cried  Jimmieboy,  sympathetically. 
"Poor  little  Tom." 

"  Whereat  the  cow 

Remarked,  'Pray  how — 
If  what  you  say  is  true — 

How  should  the  child, 

However  mild, 
Become  so  wildly  blue  ?'  " 

snored  the  corporal. 
"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Jimmie- 


86  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

boy,  very  much  surprised  at  the  rhyme,  which, 
so  far  as  he  could  see,  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
fairy  story. 

"What's  the  matter  with  me?"  returned  the 
corporal.  "  Nothing.  Why  ?" 

"There  wasn't  anything  about  a  cow  in  the 
fairy  story  you  were  telling  about  Tom,"  said 
Jimmieboy. 

"Was  I  telling  that  story  about  Tom?"  asked 
the  sleeping  soldier. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Jimmieboy. 

"Then  you  must  have  interrupted  me,"  snored 
the  corporal.  "You  must  never  interrupt  a  per- 
son who  is  snoring  until  he  gets  through,  because 
the  chances  are  nine  out  of  ten  that,  being  asleep, 
he  won't  remember  what  he  has  been  snoring 
about,  and  will  go  off  on  something  else  entirely. 
Where  was  I  when  you  interrupted?" 

"You  had  got  to  where  Tom  jumped  over  the 
gate  and  broke  all  the  china  plates,"  answered 
Jimmieboy. 

"Very  well,  then.  I'll  go  on,  but  don't  you  say 
another  thing  until  I  have  finished,"  said  the 
corporal.  Then  resuming  his  story,  he  snored 
away  as  follows:  "And  falling  on  the  hard 
gravel  path  the  plates  were  broken  every  one, 
which  was  awfully  sad,  as  any  one  could  under- 


THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY.     87 

stand  who  could  see  how  the  poor  little  fellow 
threw  himself  down  on  the  grass  and  wept. 
Dear  me,  how  he  wept!  He  wept  so  long  and 
such  great  tears,  that  the  grass  about  him  for 
yards  and  yards  looked  as  fresh  and  green  as 
though  there  had  been  a  rain-storm. 

"'  Oh,  dear!  what  shall  I  do?'  cried  Tom,  rue- 
fully regarding  the  shattered  plates.  'They'll 
beat  me  if  I  go  back  to  the  shop,  and  I'll  never 
get  to  see  the  circus  after  all.' 

" '  No,'  said  a  voice.  *  They  will  not  beat  you, 
and  I  will  see  that  you  get  to  the  circus. ' 

"'Who  are  you?'  asked  Tom,  looking  up  and 
seeing  before  him  a  beautiful  lady,  who  looked 
as  if  she  might  be  a  part  of  the  circus  herself. 
'Are  you  the  lady  with  the  iron  jaw  or  the  horse- 
back lady  that  jumps  through  hoops  of  fire?' 

"' Neither,'  replied  the  lady.  'I  am  your 
Fairy  Godmother,  and  I  have  come  to  tell  you 
that  if  you  will  gather  up  the  broken  plates  and 
take  them  up  to  the  great  house  yonder,  I  will 
fix  it  so  that  you  can  go  to  the  circus.' 

"'Won't  they  scold  me  for  breaking  the 
plates?'  asked  Tom,  his  eyes  brightening  and  his 
tears  drying. 

"'Take  them  and  see/  said  the  Fairy  God- 
mother, and  Tom,  who  was  always  an  obedient 


88  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

lad,  did  as  he  was  told.  He  gathered  up  the 
broken  plates,  put  them  in  his  basket,  and  went 
up  to  the  house. 

"  *  Here  are  your  plates/  he  said,  all  of  a  trem- 
ble as  he  entered. 

"'Let's  see  if  any  of  them  are  broken/  said 
the  merchant  in  a  voice  so  gruff  that  Tom  trem- 
bled all  the  harder.  Surely  he  was  now  in  worse 
trouble  than  ever. 

"  *  H'm!'  said  the  rich  man  taking  one  out  and 
looking  at  it.  '  That  seems  to  be  all  right.' 

"'Yes/  said  Tom,  meekly,  surprised  to  note 
that  the  plate  was  as  good  as  ever.  *  It  has  been 
very  neatly  mended. ' 

"  *  Very  what  ?'  roared  the  rich  man,  who 
didn't  want  mended  plates.  '  Did  you  say 
mended?' 

"'Oh,  no,  sir!'  stammered  Tom,  who  saw  that 
he  had  made  a  bad  mistake.  4  That  is,  I  didn't 
mean  to  say  mended.  I  meant  to  say  that  they'd 
been  very  highly  recommended.' 

"'Oh!  Recommended,  eh?'  returned  the  rich 
man  more  calmly.  '  That's  different.  The  rest 
of  them  seem  to  be  all  right,  too.  Here,  take 
your  basket  and  go  along  with  you.  Good-by !' 

"  And  so  Tom  left  the  merchant's  house  very 
much  pleased  to  have  got  out  of  his  scrape  so 


THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY.     89 

easily,  and  feeling  very  grateful  to  his  Fairy 
Godmother  for  having  helped  him. 

"'Well,'  said  she,  when  he  got  back  to  the 
gate  where  she  was  awaiting  him,  '  was  every- 
thing all  right?' 

"'-Yes,'  said  Tom,  happily.  'The  plates  were 
all  right,  and  now  they  are  all  left.7 

"The  Fairy  Godmother  laughed  and  said  he 
was  a  bright  boy,  and  then  she  asked  him  which 
he  would  rather  do :  pay  fifty  cents  to  go  to  the 
circus  once,  or  wear  the  coat  of  invisibility  and 
walk  in  and  out  as  many  times  as  he  wanted  to. 
To  this  Tom,  who  was  a  real  boy,  and  preferred 
going  to  the  circus  six  times  to  going  only  once, 
replied  that  as  he  was  afraid  he  might  lose  the 
fifty  cents  he  thought  he  would  take  the  coat, 
though  he  also  thought,  he  said,  if  his  dear  Fairy 
Godmother  could  find  it  in  her  heart  to  let  him 
have  both  the  coat  and  the  fifty  cents  he  could 
find  use  for  them. 

"  At  this  the  Fairy  Godmother  laughed  again? 
and  said  she  guessed  he  could,  and,  giving  him 
two  shining  silver  quarters  and  the  coat  of  invis- 
ibility, she  made  a  mysterious  remark,  which  he 
could  not  understand,  and  disappeared.  Tom 
kissed  his  hand  toward  the  spot  where  she  had 
stood,  now  vacant,  and  ran  gleefully  homeward, 


90  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

happy  as  a  bird,  for  he  had  at  last  succeeded  in 
obtaining  the  means  for  his  visit  to  the  circus. 
That  night,  so  excited  was  he,  he  hardly  slept  a 
wink,  and  even  when  he  did  sleep,  he  dreamed 
of  such  unpleasant  things  as  the  bitter  medicines 
of  the  doctor  and  the  broken  plates,  so  that  it 
was  just  as  well  he  should  spend  the  greater  part 
of  the  night  awake. 

"  His  excitement  continued  until  the  hour  for 
going  to  the  circus  arrived,  when  he  put  on  his 
coat  of  invisibility  and  started.  To  test  the  effect 
of  the  coat  he  approached  one  of  his  chums,  who 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  long  line  of  boys 
waiting  for  the  doors  to  open,  and  tweaked  his 
nose,  deciding  from  the  expression  on  his  friend's 
face — one  of  astonishment,  alarm,  and  mystifica- 
tion— that  he  really  was  invisible,  and  so,  proceed- 
ing to  the  gates,  he  passed  by  the  ticket-taker 
into  the  tent  without  interference  from  any  one. 
It  was  simply  lovely ;  all  the  seats  in  the  place 
were  unoccupied,  and  he  could  have  his  choice 
of  them.  Surely  nobody  could  ask  for  anything 
better. 

"  You  may  be  sure  he  chose  one  well  down  in 
front,  so  that  he  should  miss  no  part  of  the  per- 
formance, and  then  he  waited  for  the  beginning 


THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY.     91 

of  the  very  wonderful  series  of  things  that  were 
to  come. 

"  Alas !  poor  Tom  was  again  doomed  to  a  very 
mortifying  disappointment.  He  forgot  that  his 
invisibility  made  his  lovely  front  seat  appear  to 
be  unoccupied,  and  while  he  was  looking  off  in 
another  direction  a  great,  heavy,  fat  man  entered 
and  sat  down  upon  him,  squeezing  him  so  hard 
that  he  could  scarcely  breathe,  and  as  for  howl- 
ing, that  was  altogether  out  of  the  question,  and 
there  through  the  whole  performance  the  fat 
man  sat,  and  the  invisible  Tom  saw  not  one  of  the 
marvelous  acts  or  the  wonderful  animals,  and, 
what  was  worse,  when  a  joke  was  got  off  he 
couldn't  see  whether  it  was  by  the  clown  or  the 
ring-master,  and  so  didn't  know  when  to  laugh 
even  if  he  had  wanted  to.  It  was  the  most  dread- 
ful disappointment  Tom  ever  had,  and  he  went 
home  crying,  and  spent  the  night  groaning  and 
moaning  with  sorrow. 

"  It  was  not  until  he  began  to  dress  for  break- 
fast next  morning,  and  his  two  beautiful  quar- 
ters rolled  out  of  his  pocket  on  the  floor,  that 
he  remembered  he  still  had  the  means  to  go 
again.  When  he  had  made  this  discovery  he 
became  happy  once  more,  and  started  off  with 
his  invisible  coat  hanging  over  his  arm,  and 


92  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

paid  his  way  in  for  the  second  and  last  perform- 
ance like  all  the  other  boys.  This  time  he  saw 
all  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  was  full  of  happi- 
ness, until  the  lions'  cage  was  brought  in,  when 
he  thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  put  on  his 
invisible  coat,  and  enter  the  cage  with  the  lion- 
tamer,  which  he  did,  having  so  exciting  a  time 
looking  at  the  lions  and  keeping  out  of  their 
way  that  he  forgot  to  watch  the  tamer  when  he 
went  out,  so  that  finally  when  the  circus  was  all 
over  Tom  found  himself  locked  in  the  cage  with 
the  lions  with  nothing  but  raw  meat  to  eat.  This 
was  bad  enough,  but  what  was  worse,  the  next 
city  in  which  the  circus  was  to  exhibit  was  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away  from  the  town  in  which 
Tom  lived,  and  no  one  was  expected  to  open  the 
cage  doors  again  for  four  weeks. 

"When  Tom  heard  this  he  was  frightened  to 
death  almost,  and  rather  than  spend  all  that  time 
shut  up  in  a  small  cage  with  the  kings  of  the 
beasts,  he  threw  off  the  coat  of  invisibility  and 
shrieked,  and  then— 

"Yes— then  what?"  cried  Jimmieboy,  breath- 
lessly, so  excited  that  he  could  not  help  inter- 
rupting the  corporal,  despite  the  story-teller's 
warning. 


THE  CORPORAL'S  FAIRY  STORY.  93 

",The  bull-dog  said  be  thought  it  might, 

But  pussy  she  said  '  Nay,' 
At  which  the  unicorn  took  fright, 
And  stole  a  bale  of  hay," 

snored  the  corporal  with  a  yawn. 

"That  can't  be  it!  that  can't  be  it!"  cried  Jim- 
mieboy,  so  excited  to  hear  what  happened  to  lit- 
tle Tom  in  the  lions'  cage  that  he  began  to  shake 
the  corporal  almost  fiercely. 

"What  can't  be  what?"  asked  the  corporal,  sit- 
ting up  and  opening  his  eyes.  "  What  are  you 
trying  to  talk  about,  general?" 

"  Tom— and  the  circus— what  happened  to  him 
in  the  lions'  cage  when  he  took  off  his  coat?" 
cried  Jimmieboy. 

"Tom?  And  the  circus?  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  any  Tom  or  any  circus,"  replied  the 
corporal,  with  a  sleepy  nod. 

"But  you've  just  been  snoring  to  me  about  it," 
remonstrated  Jimmieboy. 

"Don't  remember  it  at  all,"  said  the  corporal. 
"  I  must  have  been  asleep  and  dreamed  it,  or  else 
you  did,  or  maybe  both  of  us  did;  but  tell  me, 
general,  in  confidence  now,  and  don't  ever  tell 
anybody  I  asked  you,  have  you  such  a  thing  as 
a — as  a  gum-drop  in  your  pocket?" 

And  Jimmieboy  was  so  put  out  with  the  cor- 


94  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

poral  for  waking  up  just  at  the  wrong  time  that 
he  wouldn't  answer  him,  but  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  walked  away  very  much  concerned  in  his 
mind  as  to  the  possible  fate  of  poor  little  Tom. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE. 

JT  cannot  be  said  that  Jimmieboy  was  entirely 
happy  after  his  falling  out  with  the  corporal. 
Of  course  it  was  very  inconsiderate  of  the  corpo- 
ral to  wake  up  at  the  most  exciting  period  of  his 
fairy  story,  and  leave  his  commanding  officer  in 
a  state  of  uncertainty  as  to  the  fate  of  little  Tom ; 
but  as  he  walked  along  the  road,  and  thought  the 
matter  all  over,  Jimmieboy  reflected  that  after  all 
he  was  himself  as  much  to  blame  as  the  corporal. 
In  the  first  place,  he  had  interrupted  him  in  his 
story  at  the  point  where  it  became  most  interest- 
ing, though  warned  in  advance  not  to  do  so,  and 
in  the  second,  he  had  not  fallen  back  upon  his 
undoubted  right  as  a  general  to  command  the 
corporal  to  go  to  sleep  again,  and  to  stay  so  until 
his  little  romance  was  finished  to  the  satisfaction 
of  his   superior  officer.     The  latter  was  without 
question  the  thing  he  should  have  done,  and  at 


96  IX  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN 

first  he  thought  he  would  go  back  and  tell  the 
corporal  he  was  very  sorry  he  hadn't  done  so. 
Indeed,  he  would  have  gone  back  had  he  not  met, 
as  he  rounded  the  turn,  a  singular-looking  little 
fellow,  who,  sitting  high  in  an  oak-tree  at  the 
side  of  the  road,  attracted  his  attention  by  wink- 
ing at  him.  Ordinarily  Jimmieboy  would  not 
have  noticed  anybody  who  winked  at  him, 
because  his  papa  had  told  him  that  people  who 
would  wink  would  smoke  a  pipe,  which  was  very 
wrong,  particularly  in  people  who  were  as  small 
as  this  droll  person  in  the  tree.  But  the  singular- 
looking  little  fellow  winked  aloud,  and  Jimmie- 
boy could  not  help  noticing  him.  Like  most 
small  boys  Jimmieboy  delighted  in  noises,  espec- 
ially noises  that  went  off  like  pop-guns,  which 
was  just  the  kind  of  noise  the  tree  dwarf  made 
when  he  winked. 

"Hello,  you!"  said  Jimmieboy,  as  the  sounds 
first  attracted  his  attention.  "What  are  you 
doing  up  there?" 

"Sitting  on  a  limb  and  counting  the  stars  in 
the  sky,"  answered  the  dwarf. 

Jimmieboy  laughed.  This  seemed  such  a  curi- 
ous thing  to  do. 

"How  many  are  there?"  he  asked. 

"Seventeen,"  replied  the  dwarf. 


A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE.     97 

"Ho!"  jeered  Jimmieboy. 

"  There  are,  really,"  said  the  dwarf.  "  I  counted 
'ern  myself." 

"There's  more  than  that,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"I've  had  stories  told  me  of  twenty-seven  or 
twenty-ei&ht." 

"That  doesn't  prove  anything,"  returned  the 
dwarf,  "that  is,  nothing  but  what  I  said.  If 
there  are  twenty-eight  there  must  be  seventeen, 
so  you  can't  catch  me  up  on  that." 

"Come  down,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I  want  to 
see  you." 

"I  can't  come  now,"  returned  the  dwarf.  "I'm 
too  busy  counting  the  eighteenth  star,  but  I'll 
drop  my  telescope  and  let  you  see  me  through 
that." 

"I'll  help  you  count  the  stars  if  you  come,"  put 
in  Jimmieboy.  "  How  many  stars  can  you  count 
a  day?" 

"Oh,  about  one  and  a  half,"  said  the  dwarf.  "I 
could  count  more  than  that,  only  I'm  cross-eyed 
and  see  double,  so  that  after  I've  got  through 
counting,  I  have  to  divide  the  whole  number  by 
two  to  get  the  proper  figures,  and  I  never  was 
good  at  dividing.  I've  always  hated  division— 
particularly  division  of  apples  and  peaches.  There 
is  no  meaner  sum  in  any  arithmetic  in  the  world 


98  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

than  that  I  used  to  have  to  do  every  time  I  gx 
an  apple  when  I  was  your  age." 

"What  was  the  sum?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"It  was  to  divide  one  apple  by  three  boys,'' 
returned  the  queer  little  man.  "  Most  generally 
that  would  be  regarded  as  a  case  of  three  into 
one,  but  in  this  instance  it  was  one  into  three ; 
and,  worse  than  all,  while  it  pretended  to  be  di- 
vision, and  was  as  hard  as  division,  as  far  as  1 
was  concerned  it  was  subtraction  too.  and  I  was 
always  the  leftest  part  of  the  remainder." 
'  "But  I  don't  see  why  you  had  to  divide  your 
apples  every  time  you  got  any,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"That's  easy  enough  to  explain,"  said  the 
dwarf.  "If  I  didn't  divide,  and  did  eat  the  whole 
apple,  I'd  have  a  fearful  pain  in  my  heart; 
whereas  if  I  gave  my  little  brothers  each  a  third, 
it  would  often  happen  that  they  would  get  the 
pain  and  not  I.  After  one  or  two  experiments 
I  fixed  it  so  that  I  never  got  the  pain  part  any 
more — for  you  know  every  apple  has  an  ache  in 
it — and  they  did,  so,  you  see,  I  kept  myself  well 
as  could  be,  and  at  the  same  time  built  up  quite 
a  reputation  for  generosity." 

"  How  did  you  fix  it  so  as  to  give  them  the  pain 
part  always?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 

"Why,  I  located  the  part  of  the  apple  that 


A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE.     99 

held  the  pain.  I  did  not  divide  one  apple  I  got, 
but  ate  the  whole  thing  myself,  part  by  part.  I 
studied  each  part  carefully,  and  discovered  that 
apples  are  divided  by  Nature  into  three  parts, 
anyhow.  Pleasure  was  one  part,  pain  was 
another  part,  and  the  third  part  was  just  noth- 
ing—neither pleasure  nor  pain.  The  core  is 
where  the  ache  is,  the  crisp  is  where  the 
pleasure  is,  and  the  skin  represents  the  part 
which  isn't  anything.  When  I  found  that  out 
I  said,  *  Here !  What  is  a  good  enough  plan  for 
Nature  is  a  good  enough  plan  for  me.  I'll  divide 
my  apples  on  Nature's  plan.'  Which  I  did.  To 
one  brother  I  gave  the  core;  to  the  other  the 
skin ;  the  rest  I  ate  myself. " 

"  It  was  very  mean  of  you  to  make  your  broth- 
ers suffer  the  pain,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"  Well,  they  had  their  days  off.  One  time  one 
brother'd  have  the  core ;  another  time  the  other 
brother 'd  have  it.  They  took  turns,"  said  the 
dwarf. 

"It  was  mean,  anyhow!"  cried  Jimmieboy, 
who  was  so  fond  of  his  own  little  brother  that 
he  would  gladly  have  borne  all  his  pains  for  him 
if  it  could  have  been  arranged. 

"  Well,  meanness  is  my  business,"  said  the 
dwarf. 


100          /AT  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Your  business?"  echoed  Jimmieboy,  opening 
his  eyes  wide  with  astonishment,  meanness 
seemed  such  a  strange  business. 

"Certainly,"  returned  the  dwarf.  "Don't  you 
know  what  I  am?  I  am  an  unfairy." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"You  know  what  a  fairy  is,  don't  you?"  said 
the  dwarf. 

"Yes.  It's  a  dear  lovely  creature  with  wings, 
that  goes  about  doing  good." 

"That's  right.  An  unfairy  is  just  the  oppo- 
site," explained  the  dwarf.  "I  go  about  doing 
unfair  things.  I  am  the  fairy  that  makes  things 
go  wrong.  When  your  hat  blows  off  in  the  street 
the  chances  are  that  I  have  paid  the  bellows 
man,  who  works  up  all  these  big  winds  we  have, 
to  do  it.  If  I  see  people  having  a  good  time  on  a 
picnic,  I  fly  up  to  the  sky  and  push  a  rain  cloud 
over  where  they  are  and  drench  them,  having  first 
of  course  either  hidden  or  punched  great  holes  in 
their  umbrellas.  Oh,  I  can  tell  you,  I  am  the 
meanest  creature  that  ever  was.  Why,  do  you 
know  what  I  did  once  in  a  country  school  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Jimmieboy,  in  tones  of  dis- 
gust. "I  don't  know  anything  about  mean 
things." 

"Well,  you  ought  to  know  about  this,"  returned 


A  DISAGREEABT/fi 

the  dwarf,  "because  it  was  just  the  meanest 
thing  anybody  ever  did.  There  was  a  boy  who'd 
studied  awfully  hard  in  hopes  that  he  would  lead 
his  class  when  the  holidays  came,  and  there  was 
another  boy  in  the  school  who  was  equal  to  him  in 
everything  but  arithmetic,  and  who  would  have 
been  beaten  on  that  one  point,  so  that  the  other 
boy  would  have  stood  where  he  wanted  to,  only  I 
helped  the  second  boy  by  rubbing  out  all  the  cor- 
rect answers  of  the  first  boy  and  putting  others 
on  the  slate  instead,  so  that  the  first  boy  lost 
first  place  and  had  to  take  second.  Wasn't  that 
mean?" 

"It  was  horrid,"  said  Jimmieboy,  "and  it's  a 
good  thing  you  didn't  come  down  here  when  I 
asked  you  to,  for  if  ycu  had,  I  think  I  should  now 
bo  slapping  you  just  as  hard  as  I  could." 

"Another  time,"  said  the  unfairy,  ignoring 
Jimmieboy 's  remark,  "I  turned  myself  into  a 
horse-fly  and  bothered  a  lame  horse;  then  I 
changed  into  a  bull-dog  and  barked  all  night 
under  the  window  of  a  man  who  wanted  to  go  to 
sleep,  but  my  regular  trick  is  going  around  to 
hat  stores  and  taking  the  brushes  and  brushing 
all  the  beaver  hats  the  wrong  way.  Sometimes 
when  people  get  lost  here  in  the  woods  and  want 
to  go  to  Tiddledywinkiand,  I  give  them  the 


102         JNi  GAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"  '       " '     '£!•-; J /•" 

wrong  directions,  so  that  they  bring  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  country,  where  they  don't  want 
to  be ;  and  once  last  winter  I  put  rust  on  the  run- 
ners of  a  little  boy's  sled  so  that  he  couldn't  use 
it,  and  then  when  he'd  spent  three  days  getting 
them  polished  up,  I  pushed  a  warm  rain  cloud 
over  the  hill  where  the  snow  was  and  melted  it 
all  away.  I  hide  toys  I  know  children  will  be 
sure  to  want ;  I  tear  the  most  exciting  pages  out 
of  books;  I  spill  salt  in  the  sugar-bowls  and  plant 
weeds  in  the  gardens ;  I  upset  the  ink  on  love- 
letters  ;  when  I  find  a  man  with  only  one  collar 
I  fray  it  at  the  edges  ,  I  roll  collar  buttons  under 
bureaus;  I — " 

"Don't  you  dare  tell  me  another  thing!"  cried 
Jimmieboy,  angrily.  "I  don't  like  you,  and  I 
won't  listen  to  you  any  more." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  replied  the  unfairy.  "I 
am  just  mean  enough  to  make  you,  and  I'll  tell 
you  why.  I  am  very  tired  of  my  business,  and  I 
think  if  I  tell  you  all  the  horrid  things  I  do,  may- 
be you'll  tell  me  how  I  can  keep  from  doing 
them.  I  have  known  you  for  a  long  time,  only 
you  didn't  know  it." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Well,  I  have,  just  the  same,"  returned  the 
dwarf.  "  And  I  can  prove  it.  Do  you  remember, 


A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE.         103 

one  day  you  went  out  walking,  how  you  walked 
two  miles  and  only  met  one  mud-puddle,  and 
fell  into  that?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Jimmieboy,  sadly.  "I  spoiled 
my  new  suit  when  I  fell,  and  I  never  knew  how 
I  came  to  do  it." 

"I  made  you  do  that!"  said  the  unfairy,  trium- 
phantly. "  I  grabbed  hold  of  your  foot,  and  up- 
set you  right  into  it.  I  waited  two  hours  to  do 
it,  too." 

"You  did,  eh?"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Well,  I  wish 
I  had  an  axe.  I'd  chop  that  tree  down,  and  catch 
you  and  make  you  sorry  for  it." 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  the  dwarf.  "Real 
sorry.  I've  never  ceased  to  regret  it." 

"Oh,  well,  I  forgive  you,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
"if  you  are  really  sorry." 

"Yes,  I  am,"   said  the  dwarf;  "I'm  awfully 
sorry,  because  I  didn't  do  it  right.    You  only 
ruined  your  suit  and  not  that  beautiful  red  neck- 
tie you  had  on.     Next  time  I'll  be  more  careful 
and  spoil  everything.     But  let  me  give  you  more 
proof  that  I've  known  you.     Who  do  you  sup- 
pose it  was  bent  your  railway  tracks  at  Christ- 
mas so  they  wouldn't  work'*" 
"You!"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy. 
"Yes,  sirree!"  roared  the  dwarf.    "I  did,  and, 


104          J^V  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

what  is  more,  it  was  I  who  chewed  up  your  best 
shoes  and  bit  your  plush  dog's  head  off ;  it  was 
I  who  ate  up  your  luncheon  one  day  last  March ; 
it  was  I  who  pawed  up  all  the  geraniums  in  your 
flower-bed ;  and  it  was  I  who  nipped  your  friend 
the  postman  in  the  leg  on  St.  Valentine's  day  so 
that  he  lost  your  valentine." 

"I've  caught  you  there,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "It 
wasn't  you  that  did  those  things  at  all.  It  was  a 
horrid  little  brown  dog  that  used  to  play  around 
our  house  did  all  that." 

"You  think  you  are  smart,"  laughed  the 
dwarf.  "But  you  aren't.  I  was  the  little  brown 
dog." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  have  any  friends  if 
that  is  the  way  you  behave,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
after  a  minute  or  two  of  silence.  "You  don't 
deserve  any." 

"No."  said  the  dwarf,  his  voice  trembling  a 
little — for  as  Jimmieboy  peered  up  into  the  tree 
at  him  he  could  see  that  he  was  crying  just  a  bit — 
"I  haven't  any,  and  I  never  had.  I  never  had 
anybody  to  set  me  a  good  example.  My  father 
and  my  mother  were  unfairies  before  me,  and  I 
just  grew  to  be  one  like  them.  I  didn't  want  to 
be  one,  but  I  had  to  be ;  and  really  it  wasn't  until 
I  saw  you  pat  a  hand-organ  monkey  on  the  head, 


A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE.         105 

instead  of  giving  him  a  piece  of  cake  with  red 
pepper  on  it.  as  I  would  have  done,  that  I  ever 
even  dreamed  that  there  were  kind  people  in  the 
world.  After  I'd  watched  you  for  a  while  and  had 
seen  how  happy  you  were,  and  how  many  friends 
you  had,  I  began  to  see  how  it  was  that  I  was  so 
miserable.  I  was  miserable  because  I  was  mean, 
but  nobody  has  ever  told  me  how  not  to  be  mean, 
and  I'm  just  real  upset  over  it." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Jimmieboy,  sympathetic- 
ally. "I  am  really  very,  very  sorry  for  you." 

"So  am  I,"  sobbed  the  dwarf.  "I  wish  you 
could  help  me." 

"Perhaps  1  can,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Well,  wait  a  minute,"  said  the  dwarf,  drying 
his  eyes  and  peering  intently  down  the  road. 
"Wait  a  minute.  There  is  a  sheep  down  the 
road  there  tangled  up  in  the  brambles.  Wait 
until  I  change  myself  into  a  big  black  dog  and 
scare  her  half  to  death." 

"  But  that  will  be  mean,"  returned  Jimmieboy ; 
"and  if  you  want  to  change,  and  be  good,  and 
kind,  why  don't  you  begin  now  and  help  the 
sheep  out  ?" 

"  H'm ! "  said  the  dwarf.  "  Now  that  is  an  idea, 
isn't  it!  Do  you  know,  I'd  never  have  thought 
of  that  if  you  hadn't  suggested  it  to  me.  I  think 


106          /AT  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

I  will.  I'll  change  myself  into  a  good-hearted 
shepherd's  boy,  and  free  that  poor  animal  at 
once!" 

The  dwarf  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  in 
a  moment  he  came  back,  smiling  as  happily  as 
though  he  had  made  a  great  fortune. 

"Why,  it's  lovely  to  do  a  thing  like  that. 
Beautiful!"  he  said.  "Do  you  know,  Jimmieboy, 
I've  half  a  mind  to  turn  mean  again  for  just  a 
minute,  and  go  back  and  frighten  that  sheep 
back  into  the  bushes  just  for  the  bliss  of  helping 
her  out  once  more. " 

"I  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  Jimmieboy.  with  a 
shake  of  his  head.  "I'd  just  change  myself  into 
a  good  fairy  if  I  were  you,  and  go  about  doing 
kind  things.  When  you  see  people  having  a 
picnic,  push  the  rain  cloud  away  from  them 
instead  of  over  them.  Do  just  the  opposite  from 
what  you've  been  doing  all  along,  and  pretty 
soon  you'll  have  heaps  and  heaps  of  friends." 

"You  are  a  wonderful  boy,"  said  the  dwarf. 
"  Why,  you've  hit  without  thinking  a  minute  the 
plan  I've  been  searching  for  for  years  and  years 
and  years,  and  I'll  do  just  what  you  say. 
Watch!" 

The  dwarf  pronounced  one  or  two  queer  words 
the  like  of  which  Jimmieboy  had  never  heard 


A  DISAGREEABLE  PERSONAGE.          107 

before,  and,  presto  change !  quick  as  a  wink  the 
unfairy  had  disappeared,  and  there  stood  at  the 
small  general's  side  the  handsomest,  sweetest 
little  sprite  he  had  ever  even  dreamed  or  read 
about.  The  sprite  threw  his  arms  about  Jim- 
mieboy's  neck  and  kissed  him  affectionately, 
wiped  a  tear  of  joy  from  his  eye,  and  then  said: 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  met  you.  You  have  taught  me 
how  to  be  happy,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  lost 
eighteen  hundred  and  seven  tons  in  weight,  I 
feel  so  light  and  gay;  and— joy!  oh,  joy!  I  no 
longer  see  double !  My  eyes  must  be  straight." 

"They  are,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Straight  as — 
straight  as— well,  as  straight  as  your  hair  is 
curly." 

And  that  was  as  good  an  illustration  as  he 
could  have  found,  for  the  sprite's  hair  w~as  just 
as  curly  as  it  could  be. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ARRANGEMENTS    FOR    A  DUEL. 

"T  X  THERE  are  you  going,  Jimmieboy?"  asked 
V  V  the  sprite,  after  they  had  walked  along  in 
silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
with  a  short  laugh.  "  I  started  out  to  provision 
the  forces  before  pursuing  the  Parawelopipedon, 
but  I  seem  to  have  fallen  out  with  everybody 
who  could  show  me  where  to  go,  and  I  am  all  at 
sea." 

"Well,  you  haven't  fallen  out  with  me,"  said 
the  sprite.  "In  fact,  you've  fallen  in  with  me, 
so  that  you  are  on  dry  land  again.  I'll  show 
you  where  to  go,  if  you  want  me  to." 

"  Then  you  know  where  I  can  find  the  candied 
cherries  and  other  things  that  soldiers  eat?" 
asked  Jimmieboy. 

"No,  I  don't  know  where  you  can  find  any- 
thing of  the  sort,"  returned  the  sprite.  "But  I 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.  109 

do  know  that  all  things  come  to  him  who  waits, 
so  I'd  advise  you  to  wait  until  the  candied  cher- 
ries and  so  forth  come  to  you." 

"But  what'll  I  do  while  I  am  waiting?"  asked 
Jimmieboy,  who  had  no  wish  to  be  idle  in  this 
new  and  strange  country. 

"Follow  me,  of  course,"  said  the  sprite,  "and 
I'll  show  you  the  most  wonderful  things  you  ever 
saw.  I'll  take  you  up  to  see  old  Fortyforefoot, 
the  biggest  giant  in  all  the  world;  after  that 
we'll  stop  in  at  Alltart's  bakery  and  have  lunch. 
It's  a  great  bakery,  Alltart's  is.  You  just  wish 
for  any  kind  of  cake  in  the  world,  and  you  have 
it  in  your  mouth." 

"  Let's  go  there  first,  I'm  afraid  of  giants,"  said 
Jimmieboy.  "They  eat  little  boys  like  me." 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  them  for  that,"  said  the 
sprite.  "A  little  boy  as  sweet  as  you  are  is 
almost  too  good  not  to  eat;  but  I'll  take  care  of 
you.  Fortyforefoot  I  haven't  a  doubt  would  like 
to  eat  both  of  us,  but  I  have  a  way  of  getting 
the  best  of  fellows  of  that  sort,  so  if  you'll 
come  along  you  needn't  have  the  slightest  fear 
for  your  safety." 

"All  right,"  said  Jimmieboy,  after  thinking  it 
all  over.  "Go  ahead.  I'll  follow  you." 

At  this  moment  the  galloping  step  of  a  horse 


110          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

was  heard  approaching,  and  in  a  minute  Major 
Blueface  rode  up. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do,  general  ?"  he  cried,  his 
face  beaming  with  pleasure  as  he  reined  in  his 
steed  and  dismounted.  "I  haven't  seen  you  in 
— my! — why,  not  in  years,  sir.  How  have  you 
been?" 

"Quite  well,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with  a  smile, 
for  the  major  amused  him  very  much.  "It 
doesn't  seem  more  than  five  minutes  since  I  saw 
you  last,"  he  added,  with  a  sly  wink  at  the 
sprite. 

"Oh,  it  must  be  longer  than  that,"  said  the 
major,  gravely.  "It  must  be  at  least  ten,  but 
they  have  seemed  years  to  me— a  seeming,  sir, 
that  is  well  summed  up  in  that  lovely  poem  a 
friend  of  mine  wrote  some  time  ago : 

"  'When  I  have  quarreled  with  a  dear 
Old  friend,  a  minute  seems  a  your  ; 
And  you'll  remember  without  doubt 
That  when  we  parted  we  fell  out.'  " 

"Very  pretty,"  said  the  sprite.  "Very  pretty, 
indeed.  Reminds  me  of  the  poems  of  Major  Blue- 
face.  You've  heard  of  him,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  major,  frowning  at  the  sprite, 
whom  he  had  never  met  before.  "  I  have  heard 
of  Major  Blueface,  and  not  only  have  I  heard  of 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.          Ill 

him,  but  I  am  also  one  of  his  warmest  friends 
and  admirers." 

"Really?"  said  the  sprite,  not  noticing  appar- 
ently that  Jimmieboy  was  nearly  exploding  with 
mirth.  "  How  charming !  What  sort  of  a  person 
is  the  major,  sir?" 

"Superb!"  returned  the  major,  his  chest  swell- 
ing with  pride.  "  Brave  as  a  lobster,  witty  as  a 
porcupine,  and  handsome  as  a  full-blown  rose. 
In  short,  he  is  a  wonder.  Many  a  time  have  I 
been  with  him  on  the  field  of  battle,  where  a  man 
most  truly  shows  what  he  is,  and  there  it  was, 
sir,  that  I  learned  to  love  and  admire  Major  Blue- 
face.  Why,  once  I  saw  that  man  hit  square  in 
the  back  by  the  full  charge  of  a  brass  cannon 
loaded  to  the  muzzle  with  dried  pease.  The  force 
of  the  blow  was  tremendous — forcible  enough, 
sir,  in  fact,  to  knock  the  major  off  his  feet,  but 
he  never  quailed.  He  rose  with  dignity,  and 
walked  back  to  where  the  enemy  was  standing, 
and  dared  him  to  do  it  again,  and  when  the 
enemy  did  it  again,  the  major  did  not  forget,  as 
some  soldiers  would  have  done  under  the  circum- 
stances, that  he  was  a  gentleman,  but  he  rose  up 
a  second  time  and  thanked  the  enemy  for  his 
courtesy,  which  so  won  the  enemy's  heart  that 
he  surrendered  at  once." 


112          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

"What  a  hero!"  said  the  sprite. 

"Hero  is  no  name  for  it,  sir.  He  is  a  whole 
history  full  of  heroes.  On  another  occasion 
which  I  recall,"  cried  the  major,  with  enthusi- 
asm, "  on  another  occasion  he  was  pursued  by  a 
lion  around  a  circular  path — he  is  a  magnificent 
runner,  the  major  is— and  he  ran  so  much  faster 
than  the  lion  that  he  soon  caught  up  with  his 
pursuer  from  the  rear,  and  with  one  blow  of  his 
sword  severed  the  raging  beast's  tail  from  his 
body.  Then  he  sat  down  and  waited  until  the 
lion  got  around  to  him  again,  his  appetite  in- 
creased so  by  the  exercise  he  had  taken  that  he 
would  have  eaten  anything,  and  then  what  do 
you  suppose  that  brave  soldier  did?" 

"  What  ?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  who  had  stopped 
laughing  to  listen. 

"He  gave  the  hungry  creature  his  own  tail  to 
eat,  and  then  went  home,"  returned  the  major. 

"Is  that  a  true  story?"  asked  the  sprite. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  tell  an  untrue  story?" 
asked  the  major,  angrily. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  sprite;  "but  if  the  major 
told  it  to  you,  it  may  have  grown  just  a  little  bit 
every  time  you  told  it." 

"Fo,  sir.  That  could  not  be,  for  I  am  Major 
Blueface  himself,"  interrupted  the  major. 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.          113 

"Then  you  are  a  brave  man,"  said  the  sprite, 
"and  I  am  proud  to  meet  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  major,  his  frown  disap- 
pearing and  his  pleasant  smile  returning.  "I 
have  heard  that  remark  before ;  but  it  is  always 
pleasant  to  hear.  But  what  are  you  doing  now, 
general?"  he  added,  turning  and  addressing  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"I -am  still  searching  for  the  provisions,  major," 
returned  Jimmieboy.  "  The  soldiers  were  so  tired 
I  hadn't  the  heart  to  command  them  to  get  them 
for  me,  as  you  said,  so  I  am  as  badly  off  as  ever." 

"I  think  you  need  a  rest,"  said  the  major, 
gravely;  "and  while  it  is  extremely  important 
that  the  forces  should  be  provided  with  all  the 
canned  goods  necessary  to  prolong  their  lives, 
the  health  of  the  commanding  officer  is  also  a 
most  precious  consideration.  As  commander-m- 
chief  why  don't  you  grant  yourself  a  ten  years' 
vacation  on  full  pay,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time 
return  to  the  laborious  work  you  have  under- 
taken, refreshed?" 

"But  what  becomes  of  the  war?"  asked  Jim- 
mieboy.  "If  I  go  off,  there  won't  be  any  war." 

"No,  but  what  of  it?"  replied  the  major. 
"  That  '11  spite  the  enemy  just  as  much  as  it  will 
our  side;  and  maybe  he'll  get  so  tired  waiting 


114          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

for  us  to  begin  that  he'll  lie  down  and  die  or 
else  give  himself  up." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy,  very  much  perplexed.  "What  would  you 
do?"  he  continued,  addressing  the  sprite. 

"I'd  hire  some  one  else  to  take  my  place  if  I 
were  you,  and  let  him  do  the  fighting  and  provi- 
sioning until  you  are  all  ready,"  said  the  sprite. 

"Yes,  but  whom  can  I  hire?"  asked  the  boy. 

"The  Giant  Forty  forefoot,"  returned  the 
sprite.  "He'd  be  just  the  man.  He's  a  great 
warrior  in  the  first  place  and  a  great  magician  in 
the  second.  He  can  do  the  most  wonderful  tricks 
you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life.  For  instance, 

"  He'll  take  two  ordinary  balls, 

He'll  toss  'em  to  the  sky, 
And  each  when  to  the  earth  it  falls 
Will  be  a  satin  tie. 

He'll  take  a  tricycle  in  hand, 

He'll  give  the  thing  a  heave, 
He'll  mutter  some  queer  sentence,  and 

'Twill  go  right  up  his  sleeve. 

He'll  ask  you  what  your  name  may  be, 

And  if  you  answer  '  Jim  !' 
He'll  turn  a  handspring — one,  two,  three  ! 

Your  name  will  then  be  Tim. 

He'll  take  a  fifty-dollar  bill, 

He'll  tie  it  to  a  chain, 
He'll  cry  out  '  Presto  !'  and  you  will 

Not  see  your  bill  again. " 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.  115 

"I'd  like  to  see  him,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "But  I 
can't  say  I  want  to  be  eaten  up,  you  know,  and 
I'd  like  to  have  you  tell  me  before  we  go  how 
you  are  going  to  prevent  his  eating  me." 

"Very  proper,"  said  Major  Blueface.  "You 
suffer  under  the  great  disadvantage  of  being  a 
very  toothsome,  tender  morsel,  and  in  all  proba- 
bility Forty  forefoot  would  order  you  stewed  in 
cream  or  made  over  into  a  tart.  My !"  added  the 
major,  smacking  his  lips  so  suggestively  that 
Jimmieboy  drew  away  from  him,  slightly  alarm- 
ed. "Why,  it  makes  my  mouth  water  to  think 
of  a  pudding  made  of  you,  with  a  touch  of  cinna- 
mon and  a  dash  of  maple  syrup,  and  a  shake  of 
sawdust  and  a  hard  sauce.  Tlah !" 

This  last  word  of  the  major's  was  a  sort  of 
ecstatic  cluck  such  as  boys  often  make  after  hav- 
ing tasted  something  they  are  particularly  fond 
of. 

"What's  the  use  of  scaring  the  boy,  Blueface?" 
said  the  sprite,  angrily,  as  he  noted  Jimmieboy 's 
alarm.  "I  won't  have  anymore  of  that.  You 
can  be  as  brave  and  terrible  as  you  please  in  the 
presence  of  your  enemies,  but  in  the  presence  of 
my  friends  you've  got  to  behave  yourself." 

The  major  laughed  heartily. 

"Jimmieboy  afraid  of  me?"  he  said.     "Non- 


116          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

sense!  Why,  he  could  rout  me  with  a  frown. 
His  little  finger  could,  unaided,  put  me  to  flight  if 
it  felt  so  disposed.  I  was  complimenting  him — 
not  trying  to  frighten  him. 

"  When  I  went  into  ecstasies 

O'er  pudding  made  of  him, 
'Twas  just  because  I  wished  to  please 

The  honorable  Jim  ; 
And  now,  in  spite  of  your  rebuff, 

The  statement  I  repeat : 
I  think  he's  really  good  enough 

For  any  one  to  eat." 

"Well,  that's  different,"  said  the  sprite,  accept- 
ing the  major's  statement.  "  I  quite  agree  with 
you  there;  hut  when  you  go  clucking  around 
here  like  a  hen  who  has  just  tasted  the  sweetest 
grain  of  corn  she  ever  had,  or  like  a  boy  after 
eating  a  plate  of  ice-cream,  you're  just  a  bit  ter- 
rifying—particularly to  the  appetizing  morsel 
that  has  given  rise  to  those  clucks.  It's  enough 
to  make  the  stoutest  heart  quail." 

"Nonsense!"  retorted  the  major,  with  a  wink 
at  Jimmieboy.  "Neither  my  manner  nor  the 
manner  of  any  other  being  could  make  a  stout 
hart  quail,  because  stout 'harts  are  deer  and 
quails  are  birds!" 

This  more  or  less  feeble  joke  served  to  put  the 
three  travelers  in  good  humor  again.  Jimmie- 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.          117 

boy  smiled  over  it ;  the  sprite  snickered,  and  the 
major  threw  himself  down  on  the  grass  in  a  per- 
fect paroxysm  of  laughter.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished he  got  up  again  and  said : 

"Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it?  I 
propose  we  attack  Fortyforefoot  unawares  and 
tie  his  hands  behind  his  back.  Then  Jimmieboy 
will  be  safe." 

"You  are  a  wonderfully  wise  person,"  retorted 
the  sprite.  "How  on  earth  is  Fortyforefoot  to 
show  his  tricks  if  we  tie  his  hands?" 

"By  means  of  his  tricks,"  returned  the  major. 
"If  he  is  any  kind  of  a  magician  he'll  get  his 
hands  free  in  less  than  a  minute." 
"Then  why  tie  them  at  all?"  asked  the  sprite. 
"  I'm  not  good  at  conundrums,"  said  the  major. 
"Why?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  sprite, 
impatiently. 

"Then  why  waste  time  asking  riddles  to 
which  you  don't  know  the  answer  ?"  roared 
the  major.  "You'll  have  me  mad  in  a  minute, 
and  when  I'm  mad  woe  be  unto  him  which  I'm 
angry  at." 

"Don't  quarrel,"  said  Jimmieboy,  stepping 
between  his  two  friends,  with  whom  it  seemed 
to  be  impossible  to  keep  peace  for  any  length  of 


118          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIEfi. 

time.  "If  you  quarrel  I  shall  leave  you  both  and 
go  back  to  my  company." 

"Very  well,"  returned  the  major.  "  I  accept  the 
sprite's  apology.  But  he  mustn't  do  it  again. 
Now  as  you  have  chosen  to  reject  my  plan  of 
attacking  Fortyforefoot  and  tying  his  hands, 
suppose  you  suggest  something  better,  Mr. 
Sprite." 

"  I  think  the  safe  thing  would  be  for  Jimmie- 
boy  to  wear  this  invisible  coat  of  mine  when  in 
the  giant's  presence.  If  Fortyforefoot  can't  see 
him  he  is  safe,"  said  the  sprite. 

"I  don't  see  any  invisible  coat  anywhere," 
said  the  major.  "Where  is  it?" 

"Nobody  can  see  it,  of  course,"  said  the  sprite, 
scornfully  "  Do  you  know  what  invisible  means?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  retorted  the  major,  UI  only  pre- 
tended I  didn't  so  that  I  could  make  you  ask  the 
question,  which  enables  me  to  say  tha.t  some- 
thing invisible  is  something  you  can't  see,  like 
your  jokes." 

"  I  can  make  a  better  joke  than  you  can  with 
my  hands  tied  behind  my  back,"  snapped  the 
sprite. 

"I  can't  make  jokes  with  your  hands  tied 
behind  your  back,  but  I  can  make  one  with  my 
own  hands  tied  behind  my  back  that  Jimmieboy 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOE  A  DUEL.  119 

here  can  see  with  his  eyes  shut,"  said  the  major, 
scornfully. 

"What  is  it?    I  like  jokes,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Why— er— let  me  see;  why — er— when  is  a 
sunbeam  sharp?"  asked  the  major,  who  did  not 
expect  to  be  taken  up  so  quickly. 

'•  I  don't  know ;  when?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"  When  it's  a  ray,  sir.  See  ?  Ray,  sir— razor. 
Ha!  ha!  Pretty  good,  eh?"  laughed  the  major. 

"Bad  as  can  be,"  said  the  sprite,  his  nose 
turned  up  until  it  interfered  with  his  eyesight. 
"Now  hear  mine,  Jimmieboy.  When  is  a  joke 
not  a  joke?" 

"Haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  observed  Jimmie- 
boy, after  scratching  his  head  and  trying  to 
think  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"When  it's  one  of  the  major's,"  roared  the 
sprite,  whereat  the  woods  rang  with  his  laughter. 

The  major  first  turned  pale  and  then  grew  red 
in  the  face. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said,  throwing  off  his 
coat.  "  That  is  a  deadly  insult,  and  there  is  now 
no  possible  way  to  avoid  a  duel." 

"I  am  ready  for  you  at  any  time,"  said  the 
sprite,  calmly.  "  Only  as  the  challenged  party  I 
have  the  choice  of  weapons,  and  inasmuch  as 
this  is  a  hot  day,  I  choose  the  jawbone." 


120          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Not  a  talking  match,  I  hope?"  said  the  major, 
with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  the  sprite.  "A  story -tell- 
ing contest.  We  will  withdraw  to  that  moss- 
covered  rock  underneath  the  trees  in  there, 
gather  enough  huckleberries  and  birch  bark  for 
our  luncheon,  and  catch  a  mess  of  trout  from  the 
brook  to  go  with  them,  and  then  we  can  fight 
our  duel  all  the  rest  of  the  afternoon." 

"But  how's  that  going  to  satisfy  my  wounded 
honor?"  asked  the  major. 

"I'll  tell  one  story,"  said  the  sprite,  "and  you'll 
tell  another,  and  when  we  are  through,  the  one 
that  Jimmieboy  says  has  told  the  best  story  will 
be  the  victor.  That  is  better  than  trying  to  hurt 
each  other,  I  think." 

"I  think  so  too,"  put  in  Jimmieboy.  "I'm 
ready  for  it." 

"Well,  it  isn't  a  bad  scheme,"  agreed  the 
major.  "  Particularly  the  luncheon  part  of  it ;  so 
you  may  count  on  me.  I've  got  a  story  that  will 
lift  your  hair  right  off  your  head." 

So  Jimmieboy  and  his  two  strange  friends 
retired  into  the  wood,  gathered  the  huckleberries 
and  birch  bark,  caught,  cooked,  and  ate  the  trout, 
and  then  sat  down  together  on  the  moss-covered 
rock  to  fight  the  duel.  The  two  fighters  drew 


ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  A  DUEL.  121 

lots  to  find  out  v/hich  should  tell  the  first  story, 
and  as  the  sprite  was  the  winner,  he  began. 
And  the  story  he  told  was  as  follows. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  SPRITE'S  STORY. 

<1  \  7"  HEN  I  was  not  more  than  a  thousand  years 
V  V  old—"  said  the  sprite. 

"Excuse  me,"  interrupted  the  major.  "But 
what  was  the  figure?" 

"One  thousand,"  returned  the  sprite.  "That 
was  nine  thousand  years  ago — before  this  world 
was  made.  I  celebrated  my  ten-thousand-and- 
sixteenth  birthday  last  Friday— but  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  my  story.  When  I  was  not 
more  than  a  thousand  years  of  age,  my  parents, 
who  occupied  a  small  star  about  forty  million 
miles  from  here,  finding  that  my  father  could 
earn  a  better  living  if  he  were  located  nearer  the 
moon,  moved  away  from  my  birthplace  and  rent- 
ed a  good-sized,  four-pronged  star  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  great  orb  of  night.  In  the  old  star  we  were 
too  far  away  from  the  markets  for  my  father  to 
sell  the  products  of  his  farm  for  anything  like 
what  they  cost  him ;  freight  charges  were  very 


THE  SPRITE  'S  STORY.  123 

heavy,  and  often  the  stage-coach  that  ran  be- 
tween Twinkleville  and  the  moon  would  not  stop 
at  Twinkleville  at  all,  and  then  all  the  stuff  that 
we  had  raised  that  week  would  get  stale,  lose  its 
fizz,  and  have  to  be  thrown  away." 

"Let  me  beg  your  pardon  again,"  put  in  the 
major.  "But  what  did  you  raise  on  your  farm? 
I  never  heard  of  farm  products  having  fizz  to 
lose." 

"We  raised  soda-water  chiefly,"  returned  the 
sprite,  amiably.  "  Soda-water  and  suspender  but- 
tons. The  soda-water  was  cultivated  and  the 
suspender  buttons  seemed  to  grow  wild.  We  nev- 
er knew  exactly  how ;  though  from  what  I  have 
learned  since  about  them,  I  think  I  begin  to  un- 
derstand the  science  of  it ;  and  I  wish  now  that 
I  could  find  a  way  to  return  to  Twinkleville,  be- 
cause I  am  certain  it  must  be  a  perfect  treasure- 
house  of  suspender  buttons  by  this  time.  Even 
in  my  day  they  used  to  lie  about  by  the  million— 
metallic  buttons  every  one  of  them.  They  must 
be  worth  to-day  at  least  a  dollar  a  thousand." 

"  What  is  your  idea  about  the  way  they  hap- 
pened to  come  there,  based  on  what  you  have 
learned  since  ?"  asked  the  major. 

"Well,  it  is  a  very  simple  idea,"  returned  the 
sprite.  "You  know  when  a  suspender  button 


124          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

comes  off  it  always  disappears.    Of    course   it 
must  go  somewhere,  but  the  question  is,  where  ? 
No  one  has  ever  yet  been   known    to  recover 
the  suspender  button  he  has  once  really  lost; 
and  my  notion  of  it  is  simply  that  the  minute 
a  metal  suspender  button  comes  off  the  clothes 
of  anybody  in  all  the  whole  universe,  it  imme- 
diately  flies  up  through  the  air  and  space  to 
Twinkleville,  which  is  nothing  more  than  a  huge 
magnet,   and  lies    there    until  somebody  picks 
it  up  and  tries  to  sell  it.     I  remember  as  a  boy 
sweeping     our  back    yard   clear    of    them    one 
evening,  and  waking  the  next  morning  to  find 
the  whole  place  covered  with  them  again ;  but  we 
never  could  make  money  on  them,  because  the 
moon  was  our  sole  market,  and  only  the  best 
people  of  the  moon  ever  used  suspenders,  and  as 
these  were  unfortunately  relatives  of  ours,  we 
had  to  give  them  all  the  buttons  they  wanted  for 
nothing,  so  that  the  button  crops  became  rather 
an  expense  to  us  than  otherwise.    But  with  soda- 
water  it  was   different.     Everybody,  it  doesn't 
make  any  difference  where  he  lives,  likes  soda- 
water,  and  it  was  an  especially  popular  thing  in 
the  moon,  where  the  plain  water  is  always  so  full 
of  fish  that  nobody  can  drink  it.     But  as   I  said 
before,  often  the  stage-coach  wouldn't  or  couldn't 


THE  SPRITE'S  STORY.  125 

stop,  and  we  found  ourselves  getting  poorer  every 
day.  Finally  my  father  made  up  bis  mind  to 
lease,  and  move  into  this  new  star,  sink  a  half- 
dozen  soda-water  wells  there,  and  by  means  of  a 
patent  he  owned,  which  enabled  him  to  give  each 
well  a  separate  and  distinct  flavor,  drive  every- 
body else  out  of  the  business." 

"You  don't  happen  to  remember  how  that 
patent  your  father  owned  worked,  do  you?" 
asked  the  major,  noticing  that  Jimmieboy 
seemed  particularly  interested  when  the  sprite 
mentioned  this.  "If  you  do,  I'd  like  to  buy  the 
plan  of  it  from  you  and  give  it  to  Jimmieboy  for 
a  Christmas  present,  so  that  he  can  have  soda- 
water  wells  in  his  own  back  yard  at  home." 

"No,  I  can't  remember  anything  about  it," 
said  the  sprite.  "  Nine  thousand  years  is  a  long 
time  to  remember  things  of  that  kind,  though  I 
don't  think  the  scheme  was  a  very  hard  one  to 
work.  For  vanilla  cream,  it  only  required  a  well 
with  plain  soda-water  in  it  with  a  quart  of  vanilla 
beans  and  three  pints  of  cream  poured  into  it  four 
times  a  week;  same  way  with  other  flavors— a 
quart  of  strawberries  for  strawberry,  sarsapa- 
rilla  for  sarsaparilla,  and  so  forth;  but  the 
secret  was  in  the  pouring;  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  way  papa  did  the  pouring;  I  never 


126          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

knew  just  what  it  was.  He  always  insisted 
on  doing  the  pouring  himself.  But  if  you  don't 
stop  asking  questions  I'll  never  finish  my  story." 

"You  shouldn't  make  it  so  interesting  if  you 
don't  want  us  to  have  our  curiosity  excited  by 
it,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "I'd  have  asked  those 
questions  if  the  major  hadn't.  But  go  ahead. 
What  happened?" 

"Well,  we  moved,  and  in  a  very  short  time 
were  comfortably  settled  in  the  suburban  star  I 
have  mentioned,"  continued  the  sprite.  "As  we 
expected,  my  father  grew  very,  very  rich.  He 
was  referred  to  in  the  moon  newspapers  as  '  The 
Soda-water  King,'  and  once  an  article  about  him 
said  that  he  owned  the  finest  suspender-button 
mine  in  the  universe,  which  was  more  or  less 
true,  but  which,  as  it  turned  out,  was  unfortu- 
nate in  its  results.  Some  moon  people  hearing 
of  his  ownership  of  the  Twinkleville  Button 
Mines  came  to  him  and  tried  to  persuade  him 
that  they  ought  to  be  worked.  Father  said  he 
didn't  see  any  use  of  it,  because  the  common  peo- 
ple didn't  wear  suspenders,  and  so  didn't  need  the 
buttons. 

" '  True,'  said  they,  '  but  we  can  compel  them  to 
need  them,  by  making  a  law  requiring  that  every- 
body over  sixteen  shall  wear  suspenders.' 


THE  SPRITE'S  STORY.  127 

"'  That's  a  good  idea,'  said  my  father,  and  he 
tried  to  have  it  made  a  law  that  every  one  should 
wear  suspenders,  high  or  low,  and  as  a  result  he 
got  everybody  mad  at  him.  The  best  people  were 
angry,  because  up  to  that  time  the  wearing  of 
suspenders  had  been  regarded  as  a  sign  of  noble 
birth,  and  if  everybody,  including  the  common 
people,  were  to  have  them  they  would  cease  to  be 
so.  The  common  people  themselves  were  angry, 
because  to  have  to  buy  suspenders  would  simply 
be  an  addition  to  the  cost  of  living,  and  they 
hadn't  any  money  to  spare.  In  consequence  we 
were  cut  off  by  the  best  people  of  the  moon. 
Nobody  ever  came  to  see  us  except  the  very 
commonest  kind  of  common  people,  and  they 
came  at  night,  and  then  only  to  drop  pailfuls 
of  cod-liver  oil,  squills,  ipecac,  and  other  unpop- 
ular things  into  our  soda-water  wells,  so  that  in 
a  very  short  time  my  poor  father's  soda-water 
business  was  utterly  ruined.  People  don't  like 
to  order  ten  quarts  of  vanilla  cream  soda-water 
for  Sunday  dinner,  and  find  it  flavored  with  cod- 
liver  oil,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  do  know,"  said  Jimmieboy,  screwing  his 
face  up  in  an  endeavor  to  give  the  major  and 
the  sprite  some  idea  of  how  little  he  liked  the 
taste  of  cod-liver  oil.  "I  think  cod-liver  oil  is 


128          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

worse  than  measles  or  mumps,  because  you  can't 
have  measles  or  mumps  more  than  once,  and 
there  isn't  any  end  to  the  times  you  can  have 
cod-liver  oil." 

"I'm  with  you  there,"  said  the  major,  empha- 
sizing his  remark  by  slapping  Jimmieboy  on  the 
back  "  In  fact,  sir.  on  page  29  of  my  book  called 
4  Musings  on  Medicines '  you  will  find — if  it  is 
ever  published — these  lines : 

"  The  oils  of  cod  ! 

The  oils  of  cod  ! 
They  make  me  feel  tremendous  odd, 

Nor  hesitate 

I  here  to  state 
I  wildly  hate  the  oils  of  cod." 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  sprite.  "  When  I  start  my 
autograph  album  I  want  you  to  write  those  lines 
on  the  first  page." 

"With  pleasure,"  returned  the  major.  "When 
shall  you  start  the  album  ?" 

"Never,  I  hope,"  replied  the  sprite,  with  a 
chuckle.  "  And  now  suppose  you  don't  interrupt 
my  story  again." 

Clouds  began  to  gather  on  the  major's  face 
again.  The  sprite's  rebuke  had  evidently  made 
him  very  angry. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  his  feelings  permitted 


THE  SPRITES  STORY.  129 

him  to  speak.  "If  you  make  any  more  such  re- 
marks as  that,  another  duel  may  be  necessary 
after  this  one  is  fought— which  I  should  very 
much  regret,  for  duels  of  this  sort  consume  a 
great  deal  of  time,  and  unless  I  am  much  mis- 
taken it  will  shortly  rain  cats  and  dogs." 

"It  looks  that  way,"  said  the  sprite,  "and  it  is 
for  that  very  reason  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
interrupted  again.  Of  course  ruin  stared  father 
in  the  face." 

"How  rude  of  ruin!"  whispered  the  major  to 
Jimmieboy,  who  immediately  silenced  him. 

"Trade  having  fallen  away,"  continued  the 
sprite,  "we  had  to  draw  upon  our  savings  for 
our  bread  and  butter,  and  finally,  when  the 
last  penny  was  spent,  we  made  up  our  minds 
to  leave  the  moon  district  entirely  and  try  life 
on  the  dog-star,  where,  we  were  informed,  peo- 
ple only  had  one  eye  apiece,  and  every  man  had 
so  much  to  do  that  it  took  all  of  his  one  eye's  time 
looking  after  his  own  business  so  that  there  wasn't 
any  left  for  him  to  spend  on  other  people's  busi- 
ness. It  seemed  to  my  father  that  in  a  place 
like  this  there  was  a  splendid  opening  for  him." 

"In  what  line?"  queried  the  major. 

"Renting  out  his  extra  eye  to  blind  men," 
roared  the  sprite. 


130          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

Jimmieboy  fell  off  the  rock  with  laughter,  and 
the  major,  angry  at  being  so  neatly  caught,  rose 
up  and  walked  away  but  immediately  returned. 

"If  this  wasn't  a  duel  I  wouldn't  stay  here 
another  minute,"  he  said.  "But  you  can't  put 
me  to  flight  that  way.  Go  on  and  finish." 

"The  question  now  came  up  as  to  how  we 
should  get  to  the  dog-star,"  resumed  the  sprite. 
"  Our  money  was  all  gone.  Nobody  would  lend 
us  any.  Nobody  would  help  us  at  all." 

"I  should  think  they'd  have  been  so  glad  you 
were  leaving  they'd  have  paid  your  fare,"  said 
the  major,  but  the  sprite  paid  no  attention. 

"  There  was  no  regular  stage  line  between  the 
moon  and  the  dog-star,"  said  he,  "and  we  had 
only  two  chances  of  really  getting  there,  and 
they  were  both  so  slim  you  could  count  their 
ribs.  One  was  by  getting  aboard  the  first  comet 
that  was  going  that  way,  and  the  other  was  by 
jumping.  The  trouble  with  the  first  chance  was 
that  as  far  as  any  one  knew  there  wasn't  a 
comet  expected  to  go  in  the  direction  of  the  dog- 
star  for  eight  million  years — which  was  rather 
a  long  time  for  a  starving  family  to  wait,  and 
besides  we  had  read  of  so  many  accidents  in  the 
moon  papers  about  people  being  injured  while 
trying  to  board  comets  in  motion  that  we  were  a 


THE  SPRITE  >S  STORY.  131 

little  timid  about  it.  My  father  and  I  could  have 
managed  very  well ;  but  mother  might  not  have — 
ladies  can't  even  get  on  horse  cars  in  motion 
without  getting  hurt,  you  know. 

"  Then  the  other  scheme  was  equally  dangerous. 
It's  a  pretty  big  jump  from  the  moon  to  the  dog- 
star,  and  if  you  don't  aim  yourself  right  you  are 
apfc  to  miss  it,  and  either  fall  into  space  or  land 
somewhere  else  where  you  don't  want  to  go. 
For  intance,  a  cousin  of  mine  who  lived  on  Mars 
wanted  to  visit  us  when  we  lived  at  Twinkleville, 
but  he  was  too  mean  to  pay  his  fare,  thinking  he 
could  jump  it  cheaper.  Well,  he  jumped  and 
where  do  you  suppose  he  landed?" 

"In  the  sun!"  cried  the  major,  in  horror. 

"No.  Nowhere!"  returned  the  sprite.  "He's 
jumping  yet.  He  didn't  come  anywhere  near 
Twinkleville,  although  he  supposed  that  he  was 
aimed  in  the  right  direction." 

"Will  you  tell  me  how  you  know  he's  falling 
yet?"  asked  the  major,  who  didn't  seem  to  be- 
lieve this  part  of  the  sprite's  story. 

"Certainly.  I  saw  him  yesterday  through  a 
telescope,"  replied  the  sprite. 

The  major  began  to  whistle. 

"  And  he  looked  very  tired,  too,"  said  the  sprite. 
"Though  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  doesn't  have  to 


132          IN  CAMP  WITH  A   TIN  SOLDIER. 

exert  himself  any.  All  he  has  to  do  is  fall,  and, 
once  you  get  started,  falling  is  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world.  But  of  course  with  the  remem- 
brance of  my  cousin's  mistake  in  our  minds,  we 
didn't  care  so  much  about  making  the  jump,  and 
we  kept  putting  it  off  and  putting  it  off  until 
finally  some  wretched  people  had  a  law  made 
abolishing  us  from  the  rnoon  entirely,  which 
meant  that  we  had  to  leave  inside  of  twenty-four 
hours ;  so  we  packed  up  our  trunks  with  the  few 
possessions  we  had  left  and  tiirew  them  off 
toward  the  dog-star ;  then  mother  and  father  took 
hold  of  hands  and  jumped  and  I  was  to  come 
along  after  them  with  some  of  the  baggage  that 
we  hadn't  got  ready  in  time. 

"According  to  my  father's  instructions  I 
watched  him  carefully  as  he  sped  through  space 
to  see  whether  he  had  started  right,  and  to  my 
great  joy  I  observed  that  he  had— that  very 
shortly  both  he  and  mother  would  arrive  safely  on 
the  dog-star — but  alas !  My  joy  was  soon  turned 
to  grief,  for  a  terrible  thing  happened.  Our  great 
heavy  family  trunk  that  had  been  dispatched 
first,  and  with  truest  aim,  landed  on  the  head  of 
the  King  of  the  dog-star,  stove  his  crown  in  and 
nearly  killed  him.  Hardly  had  the  king  risen  up 
from  the  ground  when  he  was  again  knocked 


THE  SPRITE'S  STORY.  133 

down  by  my  poor  father,  who,  utterly  powerless 
to  slow  up  or  switch  himself  to  one  side,  landed 
precisely  as  the  trunk  had  landed  on  the  mon- 
arch's head,  doing  quite  as  much  more  damage 
as  the  trunk  had  done  in  the  beginning.  When 
added  to'  these  mishaps  a  shower  of  hat-boxes 
and  hand-bags,  marked  with  our  family  name, 
fell  upon  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  the  Prime  Min- 
ister and  the  Heir  Apparent,  my  parents  were 
arrested  and  thrown  into  prison  and  I  decided 
that  the  dog-star  was  no  place  for  me.  Wild 
with  grief,  and  without  looking  to  see  where  I 
was  going,  nor  in  fact  caring  much,  I  gave  a  run- 
ning leap  out  into  space  and  finally  through 
some  good  fortune  landed  here  on  this  earth 
which  I  have  found  quite  good  enough  for  me 
ever  since." 

Here  the  sprite  paused  and  looked  at  Jimmie- 
boy  as  much  as  to  say;  "How  is  that  for  a  tale 
of  adventure?" 

"Is  that  all?"  queried  Jimmieboy. 

"Mercy !"  cried  the  major,   "Isn't  it  enough?" 

"No,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "Not  quite.  I  don't  see 
how  he  could  have  jumped  so  many  years  before 
the  world  was  made  and  yet  land  on  the  world." 

"I  was  five  thousand  years  on  the  jump," 
explained  the  sprite. 


134          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"It  was  leap-year  when  you  started,  wasn't 
it?"  asked  the  major,  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"  And  your  parents  ?  What  finally  became  of 
them?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  signaling  the  major  to 
bo  quiet. 

"I  hadn't  the  heart  to  inquire.  I  a'm  afraid 
they  got  into  serious  trouble.  It's  a  very  serious 
thing  to  knock  a  king  down  with  a  trunk  and 
land  on  his  head  yourself  the  minute  he  gets  up 
again,"  sighed  the  sprite. 

"But  didn't  you  tell  me  your  parents  were 
unfairies?"  put  in  Jimmieboy,  eying  the  sprite 
distrustfully. 

"Yes ;  but  they  were  only  my  adopted  parents," 
explained  the  sprite.  "  They  were  a  very  rich  old 
couple  with  lots  of  money  and  no  children,  so 
I  adopted  them  not  knowing  that  they  were 
unfairies.  When  they  died  they  left  me  all  their 
bad  habits,  and  their  money  went  to  found  a 
storeroom  for  worn  out  lawn-mowers.  That 
was  a  sample  of  their  meanness." 

"Well  that's  a  pretty  good  story,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"Yes,"  said  the  sprite,  with  a  pleased  smile. 
"And  the  best  part  of  it  is  it's  all  true." 

"Tut!"  ejaculated  the  major,  scornfully. 
"  Wait  until  you  hear  mine." 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    MAJOR'S  TALE. 

"  A    GREAT  many  years  ago  when  I  was  a  sou- 

/~v  venir  spoon,"  said  the  major,  "I  belonged 
to  a  very  handsome  and  very  powerful  poten- 
tate." 

"  I  didn't  quite  understand  what  it  was  you 
said  you  were,"  said  the  sprite,  bending  forward 
as  if  to  hear  better. 

"At  the  beginning  of  my  story  I  was  a  sou- 
venir spoon,"  returned  the  major. 

"  Did  you  begin  your  career  as  a  spoon  ?"  asked 
the  sprite. 

"I  did  not,  sir,"  replied  the  major.  "I  began 
my  career  as  a  nugget  in  a  lead  mine  where  I 
was  found  by  the  king  of  whom  I  have  just 
spoken,  and  on  his  return  home  with  me  he  gave 
me  to  his  wife  who  sent  me  out  to  a  lead  smith's 
and  had  me  made  over  into  a  souvenir  spoon— 
and  a  mighty  handsome  spoon  I  was  too.  I  had 
a  poem  engraved  on  me  that  said : 


136          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

'Aka  majo  te  roo  li  sab, 
Pe  mink  y  rail  mis  tebah.' 

"Rather  pretty  thought,  don't  you  think  so?" 
added  the  major  as  he  completed  the  couplet. 

"Very!"  said  the  sprite,  with  a  knowing  shake 
of  his  head. 

"Well,  I  don't  understand  it  at  all,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"Ask  this  native  of  Twinkleville  what  it 
means,"  observed  the  major  with  a  snicker.  "  He 
says  it's  a  pretty  thought,  so  of  course  he  under- 
stands it — though  I  assure  you  I  don't,  for  it 
doesn't  mean  anything.  I  made  it  up,  this  very 
minute." 

The  sprite  colored  deeply.  It  was  quite  evident 
that  he  had  fallen  into  the  trap  the  major  had 
set  for  him. 

"I  was  only  fooling,"  he  said,  with  a  sickly 
attempt  at  a  smile.  "Go  on  with  your  story." 

"I  think  perhaps  the  happiest  time  of  my  life 
was  during  the  hundreds  of  years  that  I  existed  in 
the  royal  museum  as  a  spoon,"  resumed  the 
major.  "I  was  brought  into  use  only  on  state 
occasions.  When  the  King  of  Mangapore  gave 
a  state  banquet  to  other  kings  in  the  neighbor- 
hood I  was  the  spoon  that  was  used  to  ladle  out 
the  royal  broth." 


THE  MAJOR'S  TALE.  137 

Here  the  major  paused  to  smack  his  lips,  and 
then  a  small  tear  appeared  in  one  corner  of  his 
eye  and  trickled  slowly  down  the  side  of  his 
nose. 

"I  always  weep,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  "when  I  think  of  that  broth.  Here  is 
what  it  was  made  of : 

'Seven  pies  of  sweetest  mince, 
Then  a  ripe- and  mellow  quince, 

Then  a  quart  of  tea. 
Then  a  pint  of  cinnamon, 
Next  a  roasted  apple,  done 

Brown  as  brown  can  be. 

Add  of  orange  juice,  a  gill, 
And  a  sugared  daffodil, 

Then  a  yellow  yam. 
Sixty-seven  strawberries 
Should  be  added  then  to  these, 

And  a  pot  of  jam. 

Mix  with  maple  syrup  and 
Let  it  in  the  ice-box  stand 

Till  it's  good  and  cold — 
Throw  a  box  of  raisins  in, 
Stir  it  well — just  make  it  spin — 

Till  it  looks  like  gold.' 

"Oh,  my!"  cried  the  major.  "What  a  dish  it 
was,  and  I,  I  used  to  be  dipped  into  a  tureen 
full  of  it  sixteen  times  at  every  royal  feast,  and 
before  the  war  we  had  royal  feasts  on  an  average 
of  three  times  a  day." 


138          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Three  royal  banquets  a  day?"  cried  Jimmie- 
boy,  his  mouth  watering  to  think  of  it. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  major.  "Three  a  day 
until  the  unhappy  war  broke  out  which  destroyed 
all  my  happiness,  and  resulted  in  the  downfall 
of  sixty-four  kings." 

"  How  on  earth  did  such  a  war  as  that  ever 
happen  to  be  fought?"  asked  the  sprite. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,"  replied  the  major,  sadly, 
"  that  I  was  the  innocent  cause  of  it  all.  It  was 
on  the  king's  birthday  that  war  was  declared. 
He  used  to  have  magnificent  birthday  parties, 
quite  like  those  that  boys  like  Jimmieboy  here 
have,  only  instead  of  having  a  cake  with  a  can- 
dle in  it  for  each  year,  King  Fuzzywuz  used  to 
have  one  guest  for  each  year,  and  one  whole 
cake  for  each  guest.  On  his  twenty -first  birth- 
day he  had  twenty-one  guests ;  on  his  thirtieth, 
thirty,  and  so  on;  and  at  every  one  of  these  par- 
ties I  used  to  be  passed  around  to  be  admired,  I 
was  so  very  handsome  and  valuable." 

"Absurd!"  said  the  sprite,  with  a  sneering 
laugh.  "The  idea  of  a  lead  spoon  being  valu- 
able!" 

"  If  you  had  ever  been  a.ble  to  get  into  the  soci- 
ety of  kings,"  the  major  answered,  with  a  great 
deal  of  dignity,  "you  would  know  that  on  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  TALE.  139 

table  of  a  monarch  lead  is  much  more  rare  than 
silver  and  gold.  It  was  this  fact  that  made  me 
so  overpoweringly  valuable,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  a  great  many  of  the  kings  who  used 
to  come  to  these  birthday  parties  should  become 
envious  of  Fuzzywuz  and  wish  they  owned  a 
treasure  like  myself.  One  very  old  king  died  of 
envy  because  of  me,  and  his  heir- apparent  inher- 
ited his  father's  desire  to  possess  me  to  such  a 
degree  that  he  too  pined  away  and  finally  disap- 
peared entirely.  Just  regularly  faded  out  of 
si^ht.  Didn't  die,  you  know,  as  you  would,  but 
vanished. 

"  So  it  went  on  for  years,  and  finally  on  his 
sixty-fourth  birthday  King  Fuzzywuz  gave  his 
usual  party,  and  sixty -four  of  the  choicest  kings 
in  the  world  were  invited.  They  every  one  came, 
the  feast  was  made  ready,  and  just  as  the  guests 
took  their  places  around  the  table,  the  broth  with 
i  no  lying  at  the  side  of  the  tureen  was  brought 
in.  The  kings  all  took  their  crowns  off  in 
honor  of  my  arrival,  when  suddenly  pouf !  a  gust 
of  wind  came  along  and  blew  out  every  light  in 
the  hall.  All  was  darkness,  and  in  the  midst  of 
it  I  felt  myself  grabbed  by  the  handle  and 
shoved  hastily  into  an  entirely  strange  pocket. 


140          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"'What,  ho,  without  there!'  cried  Fuzzy wuz. 
'Turn  off  the  wind  and  bring  a  light.' 

"  The  slaves  hastened  to  do  as  they  were  told, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  light  and 
order  were  restored.  And  then  a  terrible  scene 
ensued.  I  could  see  it  very  plainly  through  a 
button-hole  in  the  cloak  of  the  potentate  who 
had  seized  me  and  hidden  me  in  his  pocket. 
Fuzzywuz  immediately  discovered  that  I  was 
missing. 

"'What  has  become  of  our  royal  spoon?' he 
roared  to  the  head-waiter,  who,  though  he  was 
an  African  of  the  blackest  hue,  turned  white  as 
a  sheet  with  fear. 

"  'It  was  in  the  broth,  oh,  Nepotic  Fuzzywuz, 
King  of  the  Desert  and  most  noble  Potentate  of 
the  Sand  Dunes,  when  I,  thy  miserable  servant, 
brought  it  into  the  gorgeous  banqueting  hall  and 
set  it  here  before  thee.  who  art  ever  my  most 
Serene  and  Egotistic  Master,'  returned  the  slave, 
trembling  with  fear  and  throwing  himself  flat 
upon  the  dining-hall  floor. 

"  'Caitiff!'  cried  the  king.  'I  believe  thou  hast 
played  me  false.  Do  spoons  take  wings  unto 
themselves  and  fly  away?  Are  they  tadpoles 
that  they  develop  legs  and  hop  as  frogs  from  our 
royal  presence?  Do  spoons  evapidate ' 


THE  MAJORS  TALE.  141 

"'Evaporate,  my  dear/  suggested  the  queen  in 
a  whisper, 

"'Thanks/  returned  the  king.  'Do  spoons 
evaporate  like  water  in  the  sun?  Do  they  raise 
sails  like  sloops  of  war  and  thunder  noiselessly 
out  of  sight?  No,  no.  Thou  hast  stolen  it  and  thou 

must  bear  the  penalty  of  thy  predilection ' 

"'Dereliction/    whispered    the    queen,    impa- 
tiently. 

"  'He  knows  what  I  mean/  roared  the  king,  'or 
if  he  doesn't  he  will  when  his  head  is  cut  off/  " 

"Is  that  what  all  those  big  words  meant?" 
asked  Jimmieboy. 

"  As  I  remember  the  occurrence,  it  is/'  returned 
the  major.  "What  the  king  really  meant  was 
always  uncertain;  he  always  used  such  big 
words  and  rarely  got  them  right.  Reprehensi- 
bility  and  tremulousness  were  great  favorites  of 
his,  though  I  don't  believe  he  ever  knew  what 
they  meant.  But,  to  continue  my  story,  at  this 
point  the  king  rose  and  sharpening  the  carving 
knife  was  about  to  behead  the  slave's  head  off 
when  the  potentate  who  had  me  in  his  pocket 
cried  out : 

"  'Hold,  oh  Fuzzywuz !  The  slave  is  right.  I 
saw  the  spoon  myself  at  the  side  of  yon  tureen 
when  it  was  brought  hither, ' 


142          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"'Then,'  returned  the  king,  'it  has  been  perco- 
lated  ' 

"  'Peculated/  whispered  the  queen. 

"'That's  what  I  said,'  retorted  Fuzzy wuzs 
angrily.  'The  spoon  has  been  speculated  by  some 
one  of  our  royal  brethren  at  this  board.  The  point 
to  be  liquidated  now  is,  who  has  done  this  deed. 
What,  ho,  without  there!  A  guard  about  the 
palace  gates— and  lock  the  doors  and  bar  the  win- 
dows. We  shall  have  a  search.  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
that  every  king  in  this  room  save  only  myself  and 
my  friend  Prince  Bigaroo,  who  at  the  risk  of  his 
kingly  dignity  deigned  to  come  to  the  rescue  of 
my  slave,  must  repeal— I  should  say  reveal-  the 
contents  of  his  pockets.  Prince  Bigaroo  must  be 
innocent  or  he  would  not  have  ejaculated  as  he 
hath.' 

"You  see,"  said  the  major,  in  explanation, 
"  Bigaroo  having  stolen  me  was  smart  enough  to 
see  how  it  would  be  if  he  spoke.  A  guilty  per- 
son in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  would  have  kept 
silent  and  let  the  slave  suffer.  So  Bigaroo  es- 
caped; but  all  the  others  were  searched  and 
of  course  I  was  not  found.  Fuzzywuz  was  wild 
with  sorrow  and  anger,  and  declared  that  unless 
I  was  returned  within  ten  minutes  he  would 
wage  war  upon,  and  utterly  destroy,  every  king 


THE  MAJOR'S  TALE.  143 

in  the  place.  The  kings  all  turned  pale — even 
Bigaroo's  cheek  grew  white,  but  having  me  he 
was  determined  to  keep  me  and  so  the  war 
began." 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  and  save  the  innocent 
kings?"  asked  the  sprite. 

" How  could  I?"  retorted  the  major.  "Did  you 
ever  see  a  spoon  with  a  tongue?" 

The  sprite  made  no  answer.  He  evidently  had 
never  seen  a  spoon  with  a  tongue. 

"The  war  was  a  terrible  one,"  said  the  major, 
resuming  his  story.  "  One  by  one  the  kings  were 
destroyed,  and  finally  only  Bigaroo  remained,  and 
Fuzzywuz  not  having  found  me  in  the  treasures 
of  the  others,  finally  came  to  see  that  it  was  Biga- 
roo who  had  stolen  me.  So  he  turned  his  forces 
toward  the  wicked  monarch,  defeated  his  army, 
and  set  fire  to  his  palace.  In  that  fire  I  was 
destroyed  as  a  souvenir  spoon  and  became  a 
lump  of  lead  once  more,  lying  in  the  ruins  for 
nearly  a  thousand  years,  when  I  was  sold  along 
with  a  lot  of  iron  and  other  things  to  a  junk 
dealer.  He  in  turn  sold  me  to  a  ship-maker, 
who  worked  me  over  into  a  sounding  lead 
for  a  steamer  he  had  built.  On  my  first  trip 
out  I  was  sent  overboard  to  see  how  deep 
the  ocean  was.  I  fell  in  between  two  huge 


144          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

rocks  down  on  the  ocean's  bed  and  was 
caught,  the  rope  connecting  me  with  the  ship 
snapped,  and  there  I  was,  twenty  thousand 
fathoms  under  the  sea,  lost,  as  I  supposed,  for- 
ever. The  effect  of  the  salt  water  upon  me  was 
very  much  like  that  of  hair  restorer  on  some 
people's  heads.  I  began  to  grow  a  head  of  green 
hair— seaweed  some  people  call  it— and  to  this 
fact,  strangely  enough,  I  owed  my  escape  from  the 
water.  A  sea-cow  who  used  to  graze  about  where 
I  lay,  thinking  that  I  was  only  a  tuft  of  grass 
gathered  me  in  one  afternoon  and  swallowed  me 
without  blinking,  and  some  time  after,  the  cow 
having  been  caught  and  killed  by  some  giant 
fishermen,  I  was  found  by  the  wife  of  one  of 
the  men  when  the  great  cow  was  about  to  be 
cooked.  These  giants  weie  very  strange  people 
who  inhabited  an  island  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  which  was  gradually  sinking 
into  the  water  with  the  weight  of  the  people 
on  it,  and  which  has  now  entirely  disappeared. 
There  wasn't  one  of  the  inhabitants  that  was 
less  than  one  hundred  feet  tall,  and  in  those 
days  they  used  to  act  as  light-houses  for  each 
other  at  night.  They  had  but  one  eye  apiece, 
and  when  that  was  open  it  used  to  flash  just  like 
a  great  electric  light,  and  they'd  take  turns  at 


THE  MAJOR'S  TALE.  145 

standing  up  in  the  middle  of  the  island  all  night 
long  and  turning  round  and  round  and  round 
until  you'd  think  they'd  drop  with  dizziness. 
I  staid  with  these  people,  I  should  say,  about 
forty  years,  when  one  morning  two  of  the  giants 
got  disputing  as  to  which  of  them  could  throw  a 
stone  the  farthest.  One  of  them  said  he  could 
throw  a  pebble  two  thousand  miles,  and  the 
other  said  he  could  throw  one  all  the  way  round 
the  world.  At  this  the  first  one  laughed  and 
jeered,  and  to  prove  that  he  had  told  the  truth 
the  second  grabbed  up  what  he  thought  was  a 
pebble,  but  which  happened  to  be  me  and  threw 
me  from  him  with  all  his  force." 

"Did  you  go  all  the  way  around?"  queried  Jim- 
mieboy. 

"Did  I?  Well,  rather.  I  went  around  once 
and  a  half.  And  sad  to  say  I  killed  the  giant 
who  threw  me,"  returned  the  major.  "I  went 
around  the  world  so  swiftly  that  when  I  got 
back  to  the  island  the  poor  fellow  hadn't  had 
time  to  get  out  of  my  way,  and  as  I  came  whiz- 
zing along  I  struck  him  in  the  back,  went  right 
through  him,  and  leaving  him  dead  on  the  island 
went  on  again  and  finally  fell  into  a  great  gun 
manufactory  in  Massachusetts  where  I  was 
smelted  over  into  a  bullet,  and  sent  to  the  war. 


146          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

I  did  lots  of  work  for  George  Washington.  T 
think  I  must  have  killed  off  half  a  dozen  regi- 
ments of  his  enemies,  and  between  you  and  me, 
General  Washington  said  I  was  his  favorite  bul- 
let, and  added  that  as  long  as  he  had  me  with 
him  he  wasn't  afraid  of  anybody.'* 

Here  the  major  paused  a  minute  to  smile  at  the 
sprite  who  was  beginning  to  look  a  little  blue. 
It  was  rather  plain,  the  sprite  thought,  that  the 
major  was  getting  the  best  of  the  duel. 

"Go  on,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "  What  next?  How 
long  did  you  stay  with  George  Washington?" 

"  Six  months,"  said  the  major.  "  I'd  never  have 
left  him  if  he  hadn't  ordered  me  to  do  work 
that  I  wasn't  made  for.  When  a  bullet  goes 
to  war  he  doesirt  want  to  waste  himself  on 
ducks.  I  wanted  to  go  after  hostile  generals 
and  majors  and  cornet  players,  and  if  Mr. 
Washington  had  used  me  for  them  I'd  have 
hit  home  every  time,  but  instead  of  that  he 
took  me  off  duck  shooting  one  day  and  actually 
asked  me  to  knock  over  a  miserable  wild  bird  he 
happened  to  want.  I  rebelled  at  this.  He  insisted, 
and  I  said,  'very  well,  General,  fire  away.'  He 
fired,  the  duck  laughed,  and  I  simply  flew  off 
into  the  woods  on  the  border  of  the  bay  and 
rested  there  for  nearly  a  hundred  years.  The 


THE  MAJOR'S  TALE.  147 

rest  of  my  story  is  soon  told.  I  lay  where  I  had 
fallen  until  six  years  ago  when  I  was  picked  up 
by  a  small  boy  who  used  me  for  a  sinker  to  go 
fishing  with,  after  which  I  found  my  way  into 
the  smelting  pot  once  more,  and  on  the  Fifteenth 
of  November,  1892,  I  became  what  I  am,  Major 
Blueface,  the  handsomest  soldier,  the  bravest 
warrior,  the  most  talented  tin  poet  that  ever 
breathed." 

A  long  silence  followed  the  completion  of  the 
major's  story.  Which  of  the  two  he  liked  the 
better  Jimmieboy  could  not  make  up  his  mind, 
and  he  hoped  his  two  companions  would  be  con- 
siderate enough  not  to  ask  him  to  decide  between 
them. 

"I  thought  they  had  to  be  true  stories,"  said 
the  sprite,  gloomily.  "I  don't  think  it's  fair  to 
tell  stories  like  yours — the  idea  of  your  being 
thrown  one  and  a  half  times  around  the  world!" 

"It's  just  as  true  as  yours,  anyhow,"  retorted 
the  major,  "  but  if  you  want  to  begin  all  over 
again  and  tell  another  I'm  ready  for  you." 

"No,"  said  the  sprite.  "We'll  leave  it  to  Jim- 
mieboy as  it  is." 

"Then  I  win,"  said  the  major. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  major,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy. "I  think  you  are  just  about  even." 


148          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  asked  the  sprite,  his 
face  beaming  with  pleasure. 

" Yes,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "We'll  settle  it  this 
way :  we'll  give  five  points  to  the  one  who  told 
the  best,  five  points  to  the  one  who  told  the  long- 
est, and  five  points  to  the  one  who  told  the  short- 
est story.  As  the  stories  are  equally  good  you 
both  get  five  points  for  that.  The  major's  was 
the  longest,  I  think,  so  he  gets  five  more,  but  so 
does  the  sprite  because  his  was  the  shortest. 
That  makes  you  both  ten,  so  you  both  win." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  the  major.     "Then  I  do  win." 

"Yes,"  said  the  sprite,  squeezing  Jimmieboy's 
hand  affectionately,  "and  so  do  I." 

Which  after  all,  I  think,  was  the  best  way  to 
decide  a  duel  of  that  sort. 


w 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PLANNING     A     VISIT. 

ELL,  now  that  that  is  settled,"  said  the 
major  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  "  I  suppose  we 
had  better  start  off  and  see  whether  Forty- 
forefoot  will  attend  to  this  business  of  getting 
the  provisions  for  us." 

"Yes,"  said  the  sprite.  "The  major  is  right 
there,  Jimmieboy.  You  have  delayed  so  long  on 
the  way  that  it  is  about  time  you  did  something, 
and  the  only  way  I  know  of  for  you  to  do  it  is  by 
getting  hold  of  Fortyforefoot.  If  you  wanted  an 
apple  pie  and  there  was  nothing  in  sight  but  a 
cart-wheel  he  would  change  it  into  an  apple  pie 
for  you." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  replied  Jimmieboy,  "but 
I'm  not  going  to  call  on  any  giant  who'd  want 
to  eat  me.  You  might  just  as  well  understand 
that  right  off.  I'll  try  on  your  invisible  coat  and 
if  that  makes  me  invisible  I'll  go.  If  it  doesn't 
we'll  have  to  try  some  other  plan." 


150          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"That  is  the  prudent  thing  to  do,"  said  the 
major,  nodding  his  approval  to  the  little  gen- 
eral. "  As  my  poem  tries  to  teach,  it  is  always 
wise  to  use  your  eyes— or  look  before  you  leap. 
The  way  it  goes  is  this : 

'If  you  arc  asked  to  make  a  jump, 
Be  careful  lest  you  prove  a  gump — 

Awake  or  e'en  in  sleep — 
Don't  hesitate  the  slightest  bit 
To  show  that  you've  at  least  the  wit 

To  look  before  you  leap. 

Why,  in  a  dream  one  night,  I  thought 
A  fellow  told  me  that  I  ought 

To  jump  to  Labrador. 
I  did  not  look  but  blindly  hopped, 
And  where  do  you  suppose  I  stopped  ? 

Bang  !    On  my  bedroom  floor  ! 

I  do  not  say,  had  I  been  wise 
Enough  that  time  to  use  my  eyes — 

As  I've  already  said — 
To~Labrador  I  would  have  got  : 
But  this  is  certain,  I  would  not 

Have  tumbled  out  of  bed.' 

"  The  moral  of  which  is,  be  careful  how  you  e:o 
into  things,  and  if  you  are  not  certain  that  you 
are  coming  out  all  right  don't  go  into  them," 
added  the  major.  "Why,  when  I  was  a 
mouse " 

"Oh,  come,  major— you  couldn't  have  been  a 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  151 

mouse,"  interrupted  the  sprite.  "You've  just 
told  us  all  about  what  you've  been  in  the  past, 
and  you  couldn't  have  been  all  thatjaiid  a  mouse 
too." 

"So  I  have,"  said  the  major,  with  a  smile.  "I'd 
forgotten  that,  and  you  are  right,  too.  I  couldn't 
have  been  a  mouse.  I  should  have  put  what  I 
was  going  to  say  differently.  If  I  had  ever  been 
a  mouse — that's  the  way  it  should  be— if  I  had 
ever  been  a  mouse  and  had  been  foolish  enough 
to  stick  my  head  into  a  mouse-trap  after  a  piece 
of  cheese  without  knowing  that  I  should  get  it 
out  again,  I  should  not  have  been  here  to-day, 
in  all  likelihood.  Therefore  the  general  is  right. 
Try  on  the  invisible  coat,  Jimmieboy,  and  let's 
see  how  it  works  before  you  risk  calling  on 
Forty  forefoot." 

"Here  it  is,"  said  the  sprite,  holding  out  his 
hands  with  apparently  nothing  in  them. 

Jimmieboy  laughed  a  little,  it  seemed  so  odd  to 
have  a  person  say  "here  it  is"  and  yet  not  be  able 
to  see  the  object  referred  to.  He  reached  out  his 
hand,  however,  to  take  the  coat,  relying  upon 
the  sprite's  statement  that  it  was  there,  and  was 
very  much  surprised  to  find  that  his  hand  did 
actually  touch  something  that  felt  like  a  coat, 
and  in  fact  was  a  coat,  though  entirely  invisible. 


152          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Shall  I  help  you  on  with  it?"  asked  the  major. 

"Perhaps  you'd  better,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "It 
feels  a  little  small  for  me. " 

"That's  what  I  was  afraid  of,"  said  the  sprite. 
"You  see  it  covers  me  all  over  from  head  to  foot 
— that  is  the  coat  covers  all  but  my  head  and  the 
hood  covers  that — but  you  are  very  much  taller 
than  I  am." 

Here  Jimmieboy,  having  at  last  got  into  the 
coat  and  buttoned  it  about  him,  had  the  strange 
sensation  of  seeing  all  of  himself  disappear  ex- 
cepting his  head  and  legs.  These  remaining  un- 
covered were  of  course  still  in  sight. 

"Ha-ha-ha!"  laughed  the  major,  merrily,  as 
Jimmieboy  walked  around.  "  That  is  the  most 
ridiculous  thing  I  ever  saw.  You're  nothing  but 
a  head  and  pair  of  legs." 

Jimmieboy  smiled  and  placed  the  hood  over 
his  head  and  the  major  roared  louder  than  ever. 

"  Ha-ha-ha-ha !"  he  cried.  "  Oh,  my— oh,  dear ! 
That's  funnier  still — now  you're  nothing  but  a 
pair  of  legs.  Hee-hee-hee !  Take  it  off  quick  or 
I'll  die  with  laughter." 

Jimmieboy  took  off  the  hood. 

"I'm  afraid  it  won't  do,  Spritey,"  he  said. 
"  Fortyf oref oot  would  see  my  legs  and  if  he 
caught  them  I'd  be  lost." 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  153 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  the  sprite,  thoughtfully. 
"The  coat  is  almost  two  feet  too  short  for  you." 

"It's  more  than  two  feet  too  short,"  laughed 
the  major.  "It's  two  whole  legs  too  short." 

"This  is  no  time  for  joking,"  said  the  sprite. 
"We've  too  much  to  talk  about  to  use  our  mouths 
for  laughing." 

"All  right,"  said  the  major.  "I  won't  get  off 
any  more,  or  if  I  do  they  won't  be  the  kind  to 
make  you  laugh.  They  will  be  sad  jokes— like 
yours.  But  I  say,  boys,"  he  added,  "I  have  a 
scheme.  It  is  of  course  the  scheme  of  a  soldier 
and  may  be  attended  by  danger,  but  if  it  is  suc- 
cessful all  the  more  credit  to  the  one  who  suc- 
ceeds. We  three  people  can  attack  Fortyforefoot 
openly,  capture  him,  and  not  let  him  go  until  he 
provides  us  with  the  provisions." 

"That  sounds  lovely,"  sneered  the  sprite.  "But 
I'd  like  to  know  some  of  the  details  of  this 
scheme.  It  is  easy  enough  to  say  attack  him, 
capture  him  and  not  let  him  go,  but  the  question 
is,  how  shall  we  do  all  this?" 

"It  ought  to  be  easy,"  returned  the  major. 
"  There  are  only  three  things  to  be  done.  The 
first  is  to  attack  him.  That  certainly  ought  to 
be  easy.  A  kitten  can  attack  an  elephant  if  it 
wants  to.  The  second  is  to  capture  him,  which, 


154          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

while  it  seems  hard,  is  not  really  so  if  the  attack 
is  properly  made.  The  third  is  not  to  let  him 
go." 

"Clear  as  a  fog,"  put  in  the  sprite.  "But  go 
on." 

"Now  there  are  three  of  us  —  Jimmieboy, 
Spriteyboy  and  Yourstrulyboy,"  continued  the 
major,  "so  what  could  be  more  natural  than 
that  we  should  divide  up  these  three  operations 
among  us?  Nothing!  Therefore  I  propose  that 
Jimmieboy  here  shall  attack  Fortyforef oot ;  the 
sprite  shall  capture  him  and  throw  him  into  a 
dungeon  cell  and  I  will  crown  the  work  by  not 
letting  him  go." 

"  Magnificent!"  said  the  sprite.  "Jimmieboy 
and  I  take  all  the  danger  I  notice." 

""Yes,"  returned  the  major.  "I  am  utterly 
unselfish  about  it.  I  am  willing  to  put  myself  in 
the  background  and  let  you  have  all  the  danger 
and  most  of  the  glory.  I  only  come  in  at  the 
very  end— but  I  don't  mind  that.  I  have  had 
glory  enough  for  ten  life-times,  so  why  should  I 
grudge  you  this  one  little  bit  of  it?  My  feelings 
in  regard  to  glory  will  be  found  on  the  fortieth 
page  of  Leaden  Lyrics  or  the  Ballads  of  Ben 
Bullet — otherwise  myself.  The  verses  read  as 
follows : 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  155 

'  Though  glory,  it  must  be  cou leased, 

Is  satisfying  stuff, 
Upon  my  laurels  let  me  rest 
For  I  have  had  enough. 

Ne'er  was  a  glorier  man  than  I, 

Ne'er  shall  a  glorier  be, 
Than,  trembling  reader,  you'll  espy — 

When  haply  you  spy  me. 

So  bring  no  more — for  while  'tis  good 

To  have,  'tis  also  plain 
A  bit  of  added  glory  would 

Be  apt  to  make  me  vain.' 

"And  I  don't  want  to  be  vain,"  concluded  the 
major. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  any  of  your  glory,"  said 
the  sprite,  "and  if  I  know  Jimmieboy  I  don't 
think  he  does  either.  If  you  want  to  reverse 
your  order  of  things  and  do  the  dangerous  part 
of  the  work  yourself,  we  will  do  all  in  our  power 
to  make  your  last  hours  comfortable,  and  I  will 
see  to  it  that  the  newspapers  tell  how  bravely 
you  died,  but  we  can't  go  into  the  scheme  any 
other  way." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  were  the  general's  prime 
minister,  or  his  nurse,"  retorted  the  major, 
"  whereas  in  reality  I,  being  his  chief  of  staff, 
am  they  if  anybody  are." 

Here  the  major  blushed  a  little  because  he  was 


156          IN  CAMP  "WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

not  quite  sure  of  his  grammar.  Neither  of  his 
companions  seemed  to  notice  the  mixture,  how- 
ever, and  so  he  continued : 

"  General,  it  is  for  you  to  say.  Shall  my  plan 
go  or  shall  she  stay?" 

"Well,  I  think  myself,  major,  that  it  is  a  little 
too  dangerous  for  me,  and  if  any  other  plan  could 
be  made  I'd  like  it  better,"  answered  Jiinmieboy, 
anxious  to  soothe  the  major's  feelings  which 
were  evidently  getting  hurt  again.  "  Suppose  I 
go  back  and  order  the  soldiers  to  attack  Forty- 
forefoot  and  bring  him  in  chains  to  me?" 

"Couldn't  be  done,"  said  the  sprite.  "The  min- 
ute the  chains  were  clapped  on  him  he  would 
change  them  into  doughnuts  and  eat  them  all  up." 

"Yes,"  put  in  the  major,  "and  the  chances  are 
he  would  turn  the  soldiers  into  a  lot  of  toy  bal- 
loons on  a  string  and  then  cut  the  string." 

"He  couldn't  do  that,"  said  the  sprite,  "because 
he  can't  turn  people  or  animals  into  anything. 
His  power  only  applies  to  things." 

"Then  what  shall  we  do?"  said  Jimmieboy,  in 
despair. 

"Well,  I  think  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  for 
me  to  change  myself  into  a  giant  bigger  than  he 
is,"  said  the  sprite.  "Then  I  could  put  you  and 
the  major  in  my  pockets  and  call  upon  Forty- 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  157 

forefoot  and  ask  him,  in  a  polite  way,  to  turn 
some  pebbles  and  sticks  and  other  articles  into 
the  things  we  want,  and,  if  he  won't  do  it  except 
he  is  paid,  we'll  pay  him  if  we  can." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  pay  him  with?" 
asked  the  major.  "I  suppose  you'll  hand  him 
half  a  dozen  checkerberries  and  tell  him  if  he'll 
turn  them  into  ten  one  dollar  bills  he'll  have  ten 
dollars.  Fine  way  to  do  business  that." 

"No,"  said  the  sprite,  mildly.  "You  can't 
tempt  Fortyforefoot  with  money.  It  is  only  by 
offering  him  something  to  eat  that  we  can  hope 
to  get  his  assistance." 

"Ah?  And  you'll  request  him  to  turn  a  hand- 
ful of  pine  cones  into  a  dozen  turkeys  on  toast, 
I  presume?"  asked  the  major. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  shall  simply 
offer  to  let  him  have  you  for  dinner — you  will 
serve  up  well  in  croquettes— Blueface  croquettes 
—eh,  Jumrdeboy?"  laughed  the  sprite. 

The  poor  major  turned  white  with  fear  and 
rage.  At  first  he  felt  inclined  to  slay  the  sprite 
on  the  spot,  and  then  it  suddenly  flashed  across 
his  mind  that  before  he  could  do  it  the  sprite 
might  really  turn  himself  into  a  giant  and  do 
with  him  as  he  had  said.  So  he  contented  himself 
with  turning  pale  and  giving  a  sickly  smile. 


158          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"That  would  be  a  good  joke  on  me,"  he  said. 
"But  really,  ray  dear  Mr.  Sprite,  I  don't  think 
I  would  enjoy  it,  and  after  all  I  have  a  sort 
of  notion  that  I  would  disagree  with  Forty- 
forefoot— which  would  be  extremely  unfortun- 
ate. I  know  I  should  rest  like  lead  on  his  diges- 
tion— and  that  would  make  him  angry  with  you 
and  I  should  be  sacrificed  for  nothing." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  consent  to  that  anyhow," 
said  Jimmieboy.  "I  love  the  major  too  much 

"So  do  we  all,"  interrupted  the  sprite.  "Why 
even  I  love  the  major  and  I  wouldn't  let  anybody 
ea,t  him  for  anything — no,  sir! — not  if  I  were 
offered  a  whole  vanilla  eclaire  would  I  permit 
the  major  to  be  eaten.  But  my  scheme  is  the 
only  one  possible.  I  will  turn  myself  into  a 
giant  twice  as  big  as  Forty f oref oot ;  I  will  place 
you  and  the  major  in  my  pockets  and  then  I  will 
call  upon  him.  He  will  be  so  afraid  of  me  that 
he  will  do  almost  anything  I  ask  him  to,  but  to 
make  him  give  us  the  very  best  things  he  can 
make  I  would  rather  deal  gently  with  him,  and 
instead  of  forcing  him  to  make  the  peaches  and 
cherries  I'll  offer  to  trade  you  two  fellows  off  for 
the  things  we  need.  He  will  be  pleased  enough 
at  the  chance  to  get  anything  so  good  to  eat  as 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  159 

you  look,  and  he'll  prepare  everything  for  us, 
and  ne  will  put  you  down  stairs  in  the  pantry. 
Then  I  will  tell  him  stories,  and  some  of  the 
major's  jokes,  to  make  him  sleepy,  and  when  fi- 
nally he  dozes  off  I  will  steal  the  pantry  key  and 
set  you  free.  How  does  that  strike  you,  general?" 
"It's  a  very  good  plan  unless  Forty  forefoot 
should  find  us  so  toothsome  looking  that  he 
would  want  to  eat  us  raw.  We  may  be  nothing 
more  than  fruit  for  him,  you  know,  and  truly  I 
don't  want  to  be  anybody's  apple,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"You  are  quite  correct  there,  general,"  said  the 
major,  with  a  chuckle.  "  In  fact,  I'm  quite  sure 
he'd  think  you  and  I  were  fruit  because  being 
two  we  are  necessarily  a  pear." 

"It  won't  happen,"  said  the  sprite,  "He  isn't 
likely  to  think  you  are  fruit  and  even  if  he  does 
I  won't  let  him  eat  you.  I'll  keep  him  from  doing 
it  if  I  have  to  eat  you  myself." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  then,  with  a  kind  promise  like 
that  there  is  nothing  left  for  us  to  do  but  accept 
your  propostion,"  said  the  major.  "As  Ben  Bul- 
let says : 

'When  only  one  thing  can  be  done — 

If  people  only  knew  it — 
The  \visest  course  beneath  the  sun 
Is  just  to  go  and  do  it.'  " 


160         IJST  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER 

"I'm  willing  to  take  my  chances,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy, "  if  after  I  see  what  kind  of  a  giant  you 
can  turn  yourself  into  I  think  you  are  terrible 
enough  to  frighten  another  giant." 

"Well,  just  watch  me,"  said  the  sprite,  taking 
off  his  coat.  "And  mind,  however  terrifying  I 
may  become,  don't  you  get  frightened,  because 
I  won't  hurt  you." 

"Go  ahead,"  said  the  major,  valiantly.  "Wait 
until  we  get  scared  before  talking  like  that  to 
us." 

"One,  two,  three!"  cried  the  sprite.     "Presto! 

Change ! 

*  Bazam,  bazam, 
A  sprite  I  am, 
Bazoo,  bazee, 
A  giant  I'd  be."' 

Then  there  came  a  terrific  noise;  the  trees 
about  the  little  group  shook  to  the  very  last  end 
of  their  roots,  all  grew  dark  as  night,  and  as 
quickly  grew  light  again.  In  the  returning 
light  Jimmieboy  saw  looming  up  before  him  a 
fearful  creature,  eighty  feet  high,  clad  in  a  mag- 
nificent suit  embroidered  with  gold  and  silver, 
a  fierce  mustache  upon  his  lip,  and  dangling  at 
his  side  was  a  heavy  sword. 

It  was  the  sprite  now  transformed  into  a  giant 
—a  terrible-looking  fellow,  though  to  Jimmieboy 


PLANNING  A  VISIT.  161 

he  was  not  terrible  because  the  boy  knew  that 
the  dreadful  creature  was  only  his  little  friend 
in  disguise. 

"How  do  I  look?"  came  a  bellowing  voice  from 
above  the  trees. 

"  First  rate.  Horribly  frightful.  I'm  sure  you'll 
do,  and  I  am  ready,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with  a 
laugh.  "What  do  you  think,  major?" 

But  there  came  no  answer,  and  Jimmieboy, 
looking  about  him  to  see  why  the  major  made 
no  reply,  was  just  in  time  to  see  that  worthy  sol- 
dier's coat-tails  disappearing  down  the  road. 

The  major  was  running  away  as  fast  as  he 
could  go. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY. 

YOU'VE  frightened  him  pretty  well,  Spritey," 
said  Jimmieboy,  with  a  laugh,  as  the  major 
passed  out  of  sight. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  sprite.  "But  you  don't 
seem  a  bit  afraid." 

"I'm  not— though  I  think  I  should  be  if  I 
didn't  know  who  you  are,"  returned  Jimmieboy. 
"You  are  really  a  pretty  hideous  affair." 

"  Well,  I  need  to  be  if  I  am  to  get  the  best  of 
Fortyf oref oot,  but,  I  say,  you  mustn't  call  me 
Spritey  now  that  I  am  a  giant.  It  won't  do  to 
call  me  by  any  name  that  would  show  Forty- 
forefoot  who  I  really  am,"  said  the  sprite,  with 
a  warning  shake  of  his  head. 

"But  what  shall  I  call  you?"  asked  Jimmieboy. 

"Bludgeonhead  is  my  name  now,"  replied  the 
sprite.  "Benjamin  B.  Bludgeonhead  is  my  full 
name,  but  you  know  me  well  enough  to  call  me 
plain  Bludgeonhead." 

"  All  right,  plain  Bludgeonhead,"  said  Jimmie- 


IN  FOHTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  103 

boy,  "I'll  do  as  you  say— and  now  don't  you 
think  we'd  better  be  starting  along?" 

"Yes,"  said  Bludgeonhead,  reaching  down  and 
grabbing  hold  of  Jimmieboy  with  his  huge  hand. 
"  We'll  start  right  away,  and  until  we  come  in 
sight  of  Fortyforefoot's  house  I  think  perhaps 
you'll  be  more  comfortable  if  you  ride  on  my 
shoulder  instead  of  in  my  coat-pocket." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Jimmieboy,  as 
Bludgeonhead  lifted  him  up  from  the  ground 
and  set  him  lightly  as  a  feather  on  his  shoulder. 
"My,  what  a  view!"  he  added,  as  he  gazed  about 
him.  "  I  think  I'd  like  to  be  as  tall  as  this  all 
the  time,  Bludgeonhead.  What  a  great  thing  it 
would  be  on  parade  days  to  be  as  tall  as  this. 
Why  I  can  see  miles  and  miles  of  country  from 
here." 

"Yes,  it's  pretty  fine— but  I  don't  think  I'd 
care  to  be  so  tall  always,"  returned  Bludgeon- 
head, as  he  stepped  over  a  great  broad  river  that 
lay  in  his  path.  "  It  makes  one  very  uppish  to  be 
as  high  in  the  air  as  this;  and  you'd  be  all  the 
time  looking  down  on  your  friends,  too,  which 
would  be  so  unpleasant  for  your  friends  that 
they  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  you 
after  a  while.  Hang  on  tight  now.  I'm  going  to 
jump  over  this  mountain  in  front  of  us." 


164          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

Here  Bludgeonhead  drew  back  a  little  and 
then  took  a  short  run,  after  which  he  leaped  high 
in  the  air,  and  he  and  Jimmieboy  sailed  easily 
over  the  great  hills  before  them,  and  then  alight- 
ed safe  and  sound  on  the  other  side. 

"That  was  just  elegant!"  cried  Jimmieboy, 
clapping  his  hands  with  glee.  "  I  hope  there  are 
lots  more  hills  like  that  to  be  jumped  over." 

"No,  there  aren't,"  said  Bludgeonhead,  "but  if 
you  like  it  so  much  I'll  go  back  and  do  it  again." 
"Let's,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

Bludgeonhead  turned  back  and  jumped  over 
the  mountain  half  a  dozen  times  until  Jimmie- 
boy was  satisfied  and  then  he  resumed  his  jour- 
ney. 

"This,"  he  said,  after  trudging  along  in  silence 
for  some  time,  "  this  is  Fortyf oref oot  Valley,  and 
in  a  short  time  we  shall  come  to  the  giant's  cas- 
tle; but  meanwhile  I  want  you  to  see  what  a 
wonderful  place  this  is.  The  valley  itself  will 
give  you  a  better  idea  of  Fortyforefoot's  great 
power  as  a  magician  than  anything  else  that  I 
know  of.  Do  you  know  what  this  place  was 
before  he  came  here?" 
"No,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "What  was  it?" 
"It  was  a  great  big  hole  in  the  ground,"  re- 
turned Bludgeonhead.  "A  regular  sand  pit. 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  165 

Fortyforefoot  liked  the  situation  because  it  was 
surrounded  by  mountains  and  nobody  ever 
wanted  to  come  here  because  sand  pits  aren't 
worth  visiting.  There  wasn't  a  tree  or  a  speck 
of  a  green,  thing  anywhere  in  sight — nothing  but 
yellow  sand  glaring  in  the  sun  all  day  and  sulk- 
ing in  the  moon  all  night." 

"Why  how  could  that  be?  It's  all  covered 
with  beautiful  trees  and  gardens  and  brooks 
now,"  said  Jimmieboy,  which  was  quite  true, 
for  the  Fortyforefoot  Valley  was  a  perfect  par- 
adise to  look  at,  filled  with  everything  that  was 
beautiful  in  the  way  of  birds  and  trees  and 
flowers  and  water  courses.  "How  could  he 
make  the  trees  and  flowers  grow  in  dry  hot 
sand  like  that?" 

"By  his  magic  power,  of  course,"  answered 
Bludgeonhead.  "He  filled  up  a  good  part  of 
the  sand  pit  with  stones  that  he  found  about 
here,  and  then  he  changed  one  part  of  the 
desert  into  a  pond  so  that  he  could  get  all  the 
water  he  wanted.  Then  he  took  a  square  mile 
of  sand  and  changed  every  grain  of  it  into 
blades  of  grass.  Other  portions  he  transformed 
into  forests  until  finally  simply  by  the  wonder- 
ful power  he  has  to  change  one  thing  into  an- 
other he  got  the  place  into  its  present  shape." 


166          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"But  the  birds,  how  did  he  make  them?" 
asked  the  little  general. 

"He  didn't,"  said  Bludgeonhead.  "They  came 
of  their  own  accord.  They  saw  what  a  beautiful 
place  this  was  and  they  simply  moved  in." 

Bludgeonhead  paused  a  moment  in  his  walk 
and  set  Jimmieboy  down  on  the  ground  again. 

"I  think  I'll  take  a  rest  here  before  going1 
on.  We  are  very  near  to  Forty  forefoot's  cas- 
tle now,"  he  said.  "I'll  sit  down  here  for  a  few 
moments  and  sharpen  my  sword  and  get  in 
good  shape  for  a  fight  if  one  becomes  neces- 
sary. Don't  wander  away,  Jimmieboy.  This 
place  is  full  of  traps  for  just  such  fellows  as 
you  who  come  in  here.  That's  the  way  Forty- 
forefoot  catches  them  for  dinner." 

So  Jimmieboy  staid  close  by  Bludgeonhead 's 
side  and  was  very  much  entertained  by  all  that 
went  on  around  him.  He  saw  the  most  won- 
derful birds  imaginable,  and  great  bumble-bees 
buzzed  about  in  the  flowers  gathering  honey 
by  the  quart.  Once  a  great  jack-rabbit,  three 
times  as  large  as  he  was,  came  rushing  out  of 
the  woods  toward  him,  and  Jimmieboy  on 
stooping  to  pick  up  a  stone  to  throw  at  Mr. 
Bunny  to  frighten  hirn  away,  found  that  all 
the  stones  in  that  enchanted  valley  were  pre- 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  167 

cious.  He  couldn't  help  laughing  outright 
when  he  discovered  that  the  stone  he  had 
thrown  at  the  rabhit  was  a  huge  diamond  as 
big  as  his  fist,  and  that  even  had  he  stopped  to 
choose  a  less  expensive  missile  he  would  have 
had  to  confine  his  choice  to  pearls,  rubies,  emer- 
alds, and  other  gems  of  the  rarest  sort.  And 
then  he  noticed  that  what  he  thought  was  a  rock 
upon  which  he  and  Bludgeonhead  were  sitting 
was  a  massive  nugget  of  pure  yellow  gold.  This 
lead  him  on  to  inspect  the  trees  about  him  and 
then  he  discovered  a  most  absurd  thing.  Forty- 
forefoot's  extravagance  had  prompted  him  to 
make  all  his  pine  trees  of  the  most  beautifully 
polished  and  richly  inlaid  mahogany ;  every  one 
of  the  weeping  willows  was  made  of  solid  oak, 
ornamented  and  carved  until  the  eye  wearied  of 
its  beauty,  and  as  for  the  birds  in  the  tree?,  their 
nests  were  made  not  of  stray  wisps  of  straw  and 
hay  stolen  from  the  barns  and  fields,  but  of  the 
softest  silk,  rich  in  color  and  lined  throughout 
with  eiderdown,  the  mere  sight  of  which  could 
hardly  help  being  restful  to  a  tired  bird— or  boy 
either,  for  that  matter,  Jimmieboy  thought. 

" Did  he  make  all  this  out  of  sand?  All  these 
jewels  and  magnificent  carvings?"  be  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Bludgeonhead.    "Simply  took  up  a 


168          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

handful  of  sand  and  tossed  it  up  in  the  air  and 
whatever  he  commanded  it  to  be  it  became.  But 
the  most  wonderful  thing  in  this  place  is  his 
spring.  He  made  what  you  might  call  a  'Wish 
Dipper'  out  of  an  old  tin  cup.  Then  he  dug  a 
hole  and  filled  it  with  sand  which  he  commanded 
to  become  liquid,  and,  when  the  sand  heard  him 
say  that,  it  turned  to  liquid,  but  the  singular 
thing  about  it  is  that  as  Fortyforefoot  didn't  say 
what  kind  of  liquid  it  should  be,  it  became  any 
kind.  So  now  if  any  ono  is  thirsty  and  wants  a 
glass  of  cider  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  dip  the  wish 
dipper  into  the  spring  and  up  comes  cider.  If 
he  wants  lemonade  up  comes  lemonade.  If  he 
wants  milk  up  comes  milk.  It's  simply  great." 

As  Bludgeon  head  spoke  these  words  Jimmie- 
boy  was  startled  to  hear  something  very  much 
like  an  approaching  footstep  far  down  the  road. 

"Did  you  hear  that?"  he  asked,  seizing  Blud- 
geonhead  by  the  hand. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  replied  Bludgeonhead,  in  a  whis- 
per. "It  sounded  to  me  like  Forty  forefoot's  step, 
too." 

"I'd  better  hide,  hadn't  I?"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Yes,"  said  Bludgeonhead.  "Come  here  and 
be  quick  about  it.  Climb  inside  my  coat  and 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  169 

snuggle  down  out  of  sight  in  my  pocket.     We 
musn't  let  him  see  you  yet  awhile." 

Jimmieboy  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and 
found  the  pocket  a  very  comfortable  place,  only 
it  was  a  little  stuffy. 

.  "It's  pretty  hot  in  here,"  he  whispered. 
"  Well,  look  up  on  the  left  hand  corner  of  the 
outer  side  of  the  pocket  and  you'll  find  two  flaps 
that  are  buttoned  up,"  replied  Bludgeonhead, 
softly.  "  Unbutton  them.  One  will  let  in  all  the 
air  you  want,  and  the  other  will  enable  you  to 
peep  out  and  see  Fortyforefoot  without  his  see- 
ing you." 

In  a  minute  the  buttons  were  found  and  the 
flaps  opened.  Everything  happened  as  Bludgeon- 
head  said  it  would,  and  in  a  minute  Jimmieboy, 
peering  out  through  the  hole  in  the  cloak,  saw 
Fortyforefoot  approaching. 

The  uwner  of  the  beautiful  valley  seemed  very 
angry  when  he  caught  sight  of  Bludgeonhead 
sitting  on  his  property,  and  hastening  up  to 
him,  he  cried : 

"  What  business  have  you  here  in  the  Valley 
of  Fortyforefoot?" 

Jimmieboy  shrank  back  into  one  corner  of  the 
pocket,  a  little  overcome  with  fear.  Fortyforefoot 
was  larger  and  more  terrible  than  he  thought. 


170          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"I  am  not  good  at  riddles,"  said  Bludgeon- 
head,  calmly.  "  Thai  is  at  riddles  of  that  sort.  If 
you  had  asked  me  the  difference  between  a  duck 
and  a  garden  rake  I  should  have  told  you  that  a 
duck  has  no  teeth  and  can  eat,  while  a  rake  has 
plenty  of  teeth  and  can't  eat.  But  when  you  ask 
me  what  business  I  have  here  I  am  forced  to  say 
that  I  can't  say." 

"You  are  a  very  bright  sort  of  a  giant," 
sneered  Fortyforefoot. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bludgeonhead.  "The  fact  is  I 
can't  help  being  bright.  My  mother  polishes  me 
every  morning  with  a  damp  chamois." 

"Do  you  know  to  whom  you  are  speaking?" 
asked  Fortyforefoot,  threateningly. 

"No;  not  having  been  introduced  to  you,  I 
can't  say  I  know  you,"  returned  Bludgeonhead. 
"  But  I  think  I  can  guess.  You  are  Anklehigh, 
the  Dwarf." 

At  this  Fortyforefoot  turned  purple  with  rage. 

"Anklehigh  the  Dwarf?"  he  roared.  "I'll  right 
quickly  teach  thee  a  lesson  thou  rash  fellow." 

Fortyforefoot  strode  up  close  to  Bludgeonhead, 
whose  size  he  could  not  have  guessed  because 
Bludgeonhead  had  been  sitting  down  all  this 
time  and  was  pretty  well  covered  over  by  his 
cloak. 


BLUDGEONHEAD   SHOWS  JIMMIEBOY   TO   FORTYFOREFOOT.      PAGF    174. 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  171 

"  I'll  take  thee  by  thine  ear  and  toss  thee  to 
the  moon,"  he  cried,  reaching  out  his  hand  to 
make  good  his  word. 

"Nonsense,  Anklehigh,"  returned  Bludgeon- 
head,  calmly.  "Don't  be  foolish.  No  dwarf  can 
fight  with  a  giant  of  my  size." 

"  But  I  am  not  the  dwarf  Anklehigh,"  shrieked 
Forty  forefoot.  "  I  am  Forty  forefoot. " 

"And  I  am  Bludgeonhead," returned  the  other, 
rising  and  towering  way  above  the  owner  of  the 
valley. 

"Mercy  sakes!"  cried  Forty  forefoot,  falling  on 
his  knees  in  abject  terror.  "He'd  make  six  of 
me !  Pardon,  O,  Bludgeonhead.  I  did  not  know 
you  when  I  was  so  hasty  as  to  offer  to  throw 
you  to  the  moon.  I  thought  you  were — er— that 
you  were — er — — " 

"More  easily  thrown,"  suggested  Bludgeon- 
head. 

"  Yes— yes— that  was  it,"  stammered  Forty- 
forefoot.  "  And  now,  to  show  that  you  have  for- 
given me,  I  want  you  to  come  to  my  castle  and 
have  dinner  with  me." 

•   "I'll  be  very  glad  to,"  replied  Bludgeonhead. 
"What  are  you  going  to  have  for  dinner?" 

"Anything  you  wish,"  said  Forty  forefoot. 
"I  was  going  to  have  a  very  plain  dinner 


172          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

to-night  because  for  to-morrow's  dinner  1  have 
invited  my  brother  Fortythreefoot  and  his  wife 
Fortytwoinch  to  have  a  little  special  dish  I  have 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  secure." 

"  Ah?"  said  Bludgeonhead.  "  And  what  is  that 
dish,  pray?" 

"Oh,  only  a  sniveling  creature  I  caught  in 
one  of  my  traps  this  afternoon.  He  was  a  soldier, 
and  he  wasn't  very  brave  about  being  caught, 
but  1  judge  from  looking  at  him  that  he  will 
make  good  eating,"  said  Fortyforefoot.  "I 
couldn't  gather  from  him  who  he  was.  He  had 
on  a  military  uniform,  but  he  behaved  less  like 
a  warrior  than  ever  I  supposed  a  man  could.  It 
seems  from  his  story  that  he  was  engaged  upon 
some  secret  mission,  and  on  his  way  back  to  his 
army,  he  stumbled  over  and  into  one  of  my  game 
traps  where  I  found  him.  He  begged  me  to  let 
him  go,  but  that  was  out  of  the  question.  I 
haven't  had  a  soldier  to  eat  for  four  years,  so  1 
took  him  to  the  castle,  had  him  locked  up  in  the 
ice-box,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  eat  him." 

"Did  he  tell  you  his  name?"  asked  Bludgeon- 
head,  thoughtfully. 

"  He  tried  to  but  didn't  succeed.  He  told  me  so 
many  names  that  I  didn't  believe  he  really  owned 
any  of  them,"  said  Fortyforefoot.  "All  I  could 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  173 

really  learn  aboutQiim  was  that  he  was  as  brave 
as  a  lion,  and  that  if  I  would  spare  him  he  would 
write  me  a  poem  a  mile  long  every  day  of  my  life." 

"Very  attractive  offer,  that,"  said  Bludgeon- 
head,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes;  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  1  wouldn't  miss 
eating  him  for  anything,"  replied  Fortyforefoot, 
smacking  his  lips,  hungrily.  "I'd  give  anything 
anybody'd  ask,  too,  if  I  could  find  another  as 
good." 

"Would  you,  honestly?"  asked  Bludgeonhead. 
"Well,  now,  I  thought  you  would,  and  that  is 
really  what  I  have  come  here  for.  I  have  in  my 
pocket  here  a  real  live  general  that  I  have  cap- 
tured. Now  between  you  and  me,  I  don't  eat 
generals.  I  don't  care  for  them — they  fight  so.  I 
prefer  preserved  cherries  and  pickled  peaches 
and— er — strawberry  jam  and  powdered  sugar 
and  almonds,  and  other  things  like  that,  you 
know,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  let  you 
have  the  general  you  would  supply  me  with  what 
I  needed  of  the  others." 

"You  have  come  to  the  right  place,  Bludgeon- 
head,"  said  Fortyforefoot,  eagerly.  "I'll  give 
you  a  million  cans  of  jam,  all  the  pickled  peaches 
and  other  things  you  can  carry  if  this  general 
you  speak  about  is  a  fine  specimen." 


174          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Well,  here  he  is,"  said  Bludgeonhead,  haul- 
ing Jimmieboy  out  of  his  pocket — whispering  to 
Jimmieboy  at  the  same  time  not  to  be  afraid 
because  he  wouldn't  let  anything  happen  to  him, 
and  so  of  course  Jimmieboy  felt  perfectly  sate, 
though  a  little  excited. 

"Beautiful!"  cried  Forty  forefoot.  "Superb! 
Got  any  more?" 

"No,"  answered  Bludgeonhead,  putting  Jim- 
mieboy back  into  his  pocket  again.  "  If  I  ever 
do  find  another,  though,  you  shall  have  him." 

This  of  course  put  Fortyforefoot  in  a  tremen- 
dously good  humor,  and  before  an  hour  had 
passed  he  had  not  only  transformed  pebbles  and 
twigs  and  leaves  of  trees  and  other  small  things 
into  the  provisions  that  the  tin  soldiers  needed, 
but  he  had  also  furnished  horses  and  wagons 
enough  to  carry  them  back  to  headquarters,  and 
then  Forcyforefoot  accompanied  by  Bludgeon- 
head  entered  the  castle,  where  the  proprietor 
demanded  that  Jimmieboy  should  be  given  up 
to  him. 

Bludgeonhead  handed  him  over  at  once,  and 
ten  minutes  later  Jimmieboy  found  himself 
locked  up  in  the  pantry. 

Hardly  had  he  time  to  think  over  the  strange 
events  of  the  afternoon  when  he  heard  a 


IN  FORTYFOREFOOT  VALLEY.  175 

noise  in  the  ice-box  over  in  one  corner  of  the 
pantry,  and  on  going  there  to  see  what  was  the 
cause  of  it  he  heard  a  familiar  voice  repeating 
over  and  over  again  these  mournful  lines : 

"From  Giant  number  one  I  ran — 

But  O  the  sequel  dire  ! 
I  truly  left  a  frying-pan 

And  jumped  into  a  fire." 

"Hullo  in  there,"  whispered  Jimmieboy.  "Who 
are  you?" 

"The  bravest  man  of  my  time,"  replied  tho 
voice  in  the  ice-box.  "Major  Mortimer  Carraway 
Blueface  of  the  '  Jimmieboy  Guards.' " 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you  again,"'  cried 
Jimmieboy,  throwing  open  the  ice-box  door.  "  I 
thought  it  was  you  the  minute  I  heard  your 
poetry." 

"Ah!"  said  the  major,  with  a  sad  smile,  "You 
recognized  the  beauty  of  the  poem?" 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "But  you  said 
you  were  in  the  fire  when  I  knew  you  were  in 
the  ice-box,  and  so  of  course " 

"Of  course,"  said  the  major,  with  a  frown. 
"You  remembered  that  when  I  say  one  thing  I 
mean  another.  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again, 
but  why  did  you  desert  me  so  cruelly?" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  RESCUE. 

FOR  a  moment  Jimmieboy  could  say  nothing, 
so  surprised  was  he  at  the  major's  question. 
Then  he  simply  repeated  it,  his  amazement  very 
evident  in  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"Why  did  we  desert  you  so  cruelly?" 

"Yes,"  returned  the  major.  "I'd  like  to  know. 
When  two  of  my  companions  in  arms  leave  me, 
the  way  you  and  old  Spriteyboy  did,  I  think  you 
ought  to  make  some  explanation.  It  was  mean 
and  cruel." 

"But  we  didn't  desert  you,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"  No  such  idea  ever  entered  our  minds.  It  was 
you  who  deserted  us." 

"I?"  roared  the  major  fiercely. 

"Certainly,"  said  Jimmieboy  calmly.  "You. 
The  minute  Spritey  turned  into  Bludgeonhead 
you  ran  away  just  about  as  fast  as  your  tin  legs 
could  carry  you — frightened  to  death  evidently." 

"Jimmieboy,"  said  the  major,  his  voice  husky 


THE  RESCUE.  177 

with  emotion,  "any  other  person  than  yourself 
would  have  had  to  fight  a  duel  with  me  for  cast- 
ing such  a  doubt  as  you  have  just  cast  upon  my 
courage.  The  idea  of  me,  of  I,  of  myself,  Major 
Mortimer  Carraway  Blueface,  the  hero  of  a  hun- 
dred and  eighty-seven  real  sham  fights,  the  most 
poetic  as  well  as  the  handsomest  man  in  the  '  Jim- 
mieboy  Guards'  being  accused  of  running  away ! 
Oh !  It  is  simply  dreadful ! 

"I've  been  accused  of  dreadful  things, 
Of  wearing  copper  finger- rings, 
Of  eating  green  peas  with  a  spoon, 
Of  wishing  that  I  owned  the  moon, 
Of  telling  things  that  weren't  the  truth, 
Of  having  cut  no  wisdom  tooth. 
In  times  of  war  of  stealing  InitiR, 
And  fainting  at  the  sound  of  guns, 
Yet  never  dreamed  I'd  see  the  day 
When  it  was  thought  I'd  run  away. 
Alack — O — well-a-day — alas  ! 
That  this  should  ever  come  to  pass  ! 
Alas — O — well-a-day — alack  ! 
It  knocks  me  flat  upon  my  back. 
Alas — alack, — O — well-a-day  ! 
It  fills  me  full  of  sore  dismay. 
Aday — alas — O — lack-a-well — " 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  that  up  forever?' 
asked  Jimmieboy.  "  If  you  are  I'm  going  to  get 
out.  I've  heard  stupid  poetry  in  this  campaign, 
but  that's  the  worst  yet." 


178          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  show  you  what  I  could  do 
in  the  way  of  a  lamentation,"  said  the  major. 
"  If  you've  had  enough  I'll  stop  of  course ;  but 
tell  me,"  he  added,  sitting  down  upon  a  cake  of 
ice,  and  crossing  his  legs,  "how  on  earth  did  you 
ever  get  hold  of  the  ridiculous  notion  that  I  ran 
away  frightened?" 

"How?"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy.  "What  else 
was  there  to  think?  The  minute  the  sprite  was 
changed  into  Bludgeonhead  I  turned  to  speak  to 
you,  and  all  I  could  see  of  you  was  your  coat- 
tails  disappearing  around  the  corner  way  down 
the  road." 

"And  just  because  my  coat-tails  behaved  like 
that  you  put  me  down  as  a  coward?"  groaned 
the  major. 

"Didn't  you  run  away?"  Jimmieboy  asked. 

"Of  course  not,"  replied  the  major.  "That  is, 
not  exactly.  I  hurried  off;  but  not  because  I  was 
afraid.  I  was  simply  going  down  the  road  to  see 
if  I  couldn't  find  a  looking-glass  so  that  Spritey- 
boy  could  see  how  he  looked  as  a  giant." 

Jimmieboy  laughed. 

"That's  a  magnificent  excuse,"  he  said. 

"I  thought  you'd  think  it  was,"  said  the  major, 
with  a  pleased  smile.  "  And  when  I  finally  found 
that  there  weren't  any  mirrors  to  be  had  along 


THE  RESCUE.  179 

the  road  I  went  back,  and  you  two  had  gone  and 
left  me." 

"And  what  did  you  do  then?"  asked  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"  I  wrote  a  poem  on  sleep.  It's  a  great  thing, 
sleep  is,  and  I  wrote  the  lines  off  in  two  tenths  of 
a  fifth  of  a  second.  As  I  remember  it,  this  is  the 
way  they  went : 

SLEEP. 

"Deserted  by  my  friends  I  sit, 

And  silently  I  weep, 
Until  I'm  wearied  so  by  it, 
I  lose  my  little  store  of  wit ; 

I  nod  and  fall  asleep. 

Then  in  my  dreams  my  friends  I  spy — 

Once  more  are  they  my  own. 
I  cease  to  murmur  and  to  cry, 
For  then  'tis  sure  to  be  that  I 

Forget  I  am  alone. 

'Tis  hence  I  think  that  sleep's  the  best 

Of  friends  that  man  has  got — 
Not  only  does  it  bring  him  rest 
But  makes  him  feel  that  he  is  blest 

With  blessings  he  has  not.'  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  to  sleep  if  you  felt  that 
way?"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"I  wanted  to  find  you  and  I  hadn't  time.  There 
was  only  time  for  me  to  scratch  that  poem  off  on 


180         IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

my  mind  and  start  to  find  you  and  Bludgeyboy," 
replied  the  major. 

"His  name  isn't  Bludgeyboy,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy,  with  a  smile.  "It's  Bludgeonhead." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  forgot,"  said  the  major.  "It's  a 
good  name,  too,  Bludgeonpate  is." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  be  captured  by  Forty- 
forefoot?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  after  he  had 
decided  not  to  try  to  correct  the  major  any  more 
as  to  Bludgeonhead 's  name. 

"There  you  go  again!"  cried  the  major, 
angrily.  "The  idea  of  a  miserable  ogre  like 
Fortyforefoot  capturing  me,  the  most  sagacita- 
cious  soldier  of  modern  times.  I  suppose  you 
think  I  fell  into  one  of  his  game  traps?" 

"That's  what  he  said,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "He 
said  you  acted  in  a  very  curious  way,  too — prom- 
ised him  all  sorts  of  things  if  he'd  let  you  go." 

"That's  just  like  those  big,  bragging  giants," 
said  the  major.  "  The  idea !  why  he  didn't  capture 
me  at  all.  I  came  here  of  my  own  free  will  and 
accord." 

"What?  Down  here  into  this  pantry  and  into 
the  ice-chest?  Oh,  come  now,  major.  You  can't 
fool  me,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "That's  nonsense. 
Why  should  you  want  to  come  here?" 

"To  meet  you,  of  course,"  retorted  the  major. 


THE  RESCUE.  181 

"  That's  why.  I  knew  it  was  part  of  your  scheme 
to  come  here.  You  and  I  were  to  be  put  into  the 
pantry  and  then  old  Bludgeyhat  was  to  come 
and  rescue  us.  I  was  the  one  to  make  the 
scheme,  wasn't  I?" 

"No.  It  was  Bludgeonhead,"  said  Jimmieboy, 
who  didn't  know  whether  to  believe  the  major  or 
not. 

"  That's  just  the  way,"  said  the  major,  indig- 
nantly, "  he  gets  all  the  credit  just  because  he's 
big  and  I  don't  get  any,  and  yet  if  you  knew  of 
all  the  wild  animals  I've  killed  to  get  here  to 
you.  how  I  met  Fortyf'orefoot  and  bound  him 
hand  and  foot  and  refused  to  let  him  go  unless 
he  would  permit  me  to  spend  a  week  in  his  ice- 
chest,  for  the  sole  and  only  purpose  that  I 
wished  to  meet  you  again,  you'd  change  your 
mind  mighty  quick  about  me." 

"You  bound  Forty  forefoot?  A  little  two-inch 
fellow  like  you?"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  major.  "Did  you  ever 
see  me  in  a  real  sham  battle?" 

"No,  I  never  did,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"Well,  you'd  better  never,"  returned  the 
major,  "unless  you  want  to  be  frightened  out  of 
your  wits.  I  have  been  called  the  living  tele- 
scope, sir,  because  when  I  begin  to  fight,  in  the 


182          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

fiercest  manner  possible,  I  sort  of  lengthen  out 
and  sprout  up  into  the  air  until  I  am  taller  than 
any  foe  within  my  reach*" 

"Really?"  queried  Jimmieboy,  with  a  puzzled 
air  about  him. 

"Do  you  doubt  it?"  asked  the  major. 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  see  it  once,"  said  Jim- 
mieboy. "Then  I  might  believe  it." 

"Then  you  will  never  believe  it,"  returned  the 
major,  "because  you  will  never  see  it.  I  never 
fight  in  the  presence  of  others,  sir." 

As  the  major  spoke  these  words  a  heavy  foot- 
step was  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"What  is  that?"  cried  the  major,  springing  to 
his  feet. 

"I  do  not  ask  yon  for  yonr  gold, 

Nor  for  an  old  straw  hat — 
I  simply  ask  that  I  be  told 
Oh  what,  oh  what  is  that  ?  " 

"It  is  a  footstep  on  the  stairs,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!"  moaned  the  major  "If 
it  is  Forty  forefoot  all  is  over  for  us.  This  is  what 
I  feared. 

"I  was  afraid  he  could  not  wait, 

The  miserable  sinner, 
To  serve  mo  up  in  proper  state 
At  his  to-morrow's  dinner. 


THE  RESCUE.  183 

Alas,  lie  comes  I  greatly  fear 

In  search  of  Major  Me,  sir, 
And  that  he'll  wash  me  down  with  beer 

This  very  night  at  tea,  sir." 

"  Oh,  why  did  I  come  here — why " 

"  I  shall !"  roared  a  voice  out  in  the  passage-way. 

"You  shall  not,"  roared  another  voice,  which 
Jimmieboy  was  delighted  to  recognize  as  Blud- 
geonhead's. 

"I  am  hungry,"  said  the  first  voice,  "and  what 
is  mine  is  my  own  to  do  with  as  I  please.  I  shall 
eat  both  of  them  at  once.  Stand  aside!" 

"I  will  toss  you  into  the  air,  my  dear  Forty  - 
forefoot,"  returned  Bludgeonhead's  voice,  "if 
you  advance  another  step ;  and  with  such  force, 
sir,  that  you  will  never  come  down  again*" 

"  Tut,  tut !  I  am  not  so  easily  tossed.  Stand 
aside,"  roared  the  voice  of  Fortyforefoot. 

The  two  prisoners  in  the  pantry  heard  a  tre- 
mendous scuffling,  a  crash,  and  a  loud  laugh. 

Then  Bludgeonhead's  voice  was  heard  again. 

"Good-by,  Fortyforefoot,"  it  cried. 

"I  hope  he  is  not  going  to  leave  us,"  whispered 
Jimmieboy,  but  the  major  was  too  frightened  to 
speak,  and  he  trembled  so  that  half  a  dozen 
times  he  fell  off  the  ice-cake  that  he  had  been 
sitting  on. 


184          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

"Give  my  love  to  the  moon  when  you  pass 
her,  and  when  you  get  up  into  the  milky  way 
turn  half  a  million  of  the  stars  there  into  baked 
apples  and  throw  'em  down  to  me,"  called  Bludg- 
eonhead's  voice. 

"If  you'll  only  lasso  me  and  pull  me  back  I'll 
do  anything  you  want  me  to,"  came  the  voice  of 
Fortyforefoot  from  some  tremendous  height,  it 
seemed  to  Jimmieboy. 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  replied  Bludgeonhead,  with 
a  laugh.  "  I  think  I'd  like  to  settle  down  here 
myself  as  the  owner  of  Fortyforefoot  Valley. 
Good-bye." 

Whatever  answer  was  made  to  this  it  was  too 
indistinct  for  Jimmieboy  to  hear,  and  in  a 
minute  the  key  of  the  pantry  door  was  turned, 
the  door  thrown  open,  and  Bludgeonhead  stood 
before  them. 

"  You  are  free,"  he  said,  grasping  Jimmieboy 's 
hand  and  squeezing  it  affectionately.  "  But  I  had 
to  get  rid  of  him.  It  was  the  only  way  to  do  it. 
He  wanted  to  eat  you  right  away." 

"And  did  you  really  throw  him  off  into  the 
air?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  as  he  walked  out  into  the 
hall. 

"Yes,"  said  Bludgeonhead.  "See  that  hole  in 
the  roof?"  he  added,  pointing  upward. 


THE  RESCUE.  185 

"My!"  ejaculated  Jimmieboy,  as  he  glanced 
upward  and  saw  a  huge  rent  in  the  ceiling, 
through  which,  gradually  rising  and  getting 
smaller  and  smaller  the  further  he  rose,  was  to 
be  seen  the  unfortunate  Fortyf oref oot.  "  Did  he 
go  through  there?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Bludgeonhead.  "I  simply 
picked  him  up  and  tossed  him  over  my  head. 
He'll  never  come  back.  I  shall  turn  myself  into 
Fortyforefoot  and  settle  down  here  forever,  only 
instead  of  being  a  bad  giant  I  shall  be  a  good 
one— but  hallo !  Who  is  this  ?" 

The  major  had  crawled  out  of  the  ice-chest 
and  was  now  trying  to  appear  calm,  although 
his  terrible  fright  still  left  him  trembling  so  that 
he  could  hardly  speak. 

"It  is  Major  Blueface,"  said  Jimmieboy,  with 
a  smile. 

"Oh!"  cried  Bludgeonhead.  "He  was  Forty- 
forefoot's  other  prisoner." 

"N — nun — not  at — t — at — at  all,"  stammered 
the  major.  "  I  def — f uf — f eated  him  in  sus — sin- 
gle combat." 

"But  what  are  you  trembling  so  for  now?" 
demanded  Bludgeonhead. 

"  I— I  am— m  not  tut— trembling"  retorted  the 
major.  "  I — I  am  o — only  sh — shivering  with — th 


186          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

— the — c — c — c— cold.  I — I — I've  bub — been  in  th — 
that  i— i — i— ice  bu— box  sus — so  long." 

Jimmieboy  and  Bludgeonhead  roared  with 
laughter  at  this.  Then  giving  the  major  a  warm 
coat  to  put  on  they  sent  him  up  stairs  to  lie  down 
and  recover  his  nerves. 

After  the  major  had  been  attended  to,  Blud- 
geonhead changed  himself  back  into  the  sprite 
again,  and  he  and  Jimmieboy  sauntered  in  and 
out  among  the  gardens  for  an  hour  or  more  and 
were  about  returning  to  the  castle  for  supper 
when  they  heard  sounds  of  music.  There  was 
evidently  a  brass  band  coming  up  the  road.  In 
an  instant  they  hid  themselves  behind  a  tree, 
from  which  place  of  concealment  they  were 
delighted  two  or  three  minutes  later  to  perceive 
that  the  band  was  none  other  than  that  of  the 
"  Jimmieboy  Guards,"  and  that  behind  it,  in  splen- 
did military  form,  appeared  Colonel  Zinc  followed 
by  the  tin  soldiers  themselves. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Jimmieboy,  throwing  his  cap 
into  ihe  air. 

"Ditto!"  roared  the  sprite. 

"The  same!"  shrieked  the  colonel,  waving  his 
sword  •jvith  delight,  and  commanding  his  regi- 
ment to  halt,  as  he  caught  sight  of  Jimmieboy. 

"Us  likewise!"  cheered  the  soldiers:  following 


THE  RESCUE.  187 

which  came  a  trembling  voice  from  one  of  the 
castle  windows  which  said : 

"I  also  wish  to  add  my  cheer 

Upon  this  happy  day  ; 
And  if  you'll  kindly  come  up  here 
You'll  hear  me  cry  'Hoor-y.'  " 

"It's  Major  Bluef ace's  voice!"  cried  the  col- 
onel. " Is  the  major  ill?" 

"No,"  said  the  sprite,  motioning  to  Jimmieboy 
not  to  betray  the  major.  "Only  a  little  worn-out 
by  the  fight  we  have  had  with  Forty  forefoot." 

"  With  Forty  forefoot?"  echoed  the  colonel. 

"Yes,"  said  the  sprite,  modestly.  "We  three 
have  got  rid  of  him  at  last." 

"Then  the  victory  is  won!"  cried  the  colonel. 
"Do  you  know  who  Fortyforefoot  really  was?" 

"No;  who?"  asked  Jimmieboy,  his  curiosity 
aroused. 

"The  Parallelepiped  on  himself,"  said  the  col- 
onel. "We  found  that  out  last  night,  and  fearing 
that  he  might  have  captured  our  general  and  our 
major  we  came  here  to  besiege  him  in  his  castle 
and  rescue  our  officers." 

"But  I  don't  see  how  Fortyforefoot  could  have 
been  the  Parallelopipedon,"  said  Jimmieboy. 
"  What  would  he  want  to  be  him  for,  wheri  all 


188          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

he  had  to  do  to  get  anything  he  wanted  was  to 
take  sand  and  turn  it  into  it?" 

"Ah,  but  don't  you  see/'  explained  the  colonel, 
"there  was  one  thing  he  never  could  do  as  Forty- 
forefoot.  The  law  prevented  him  from  leaving 
this  valley  here  in  any  other  form  than  that  of 
the  Parallelopipedon.  He  didn't  mind  his  con- 
finement to  the  valley  very  much  at  first,  but 
after  a  while  he  began  to  feel  cooped  up  here, 
and  then  he  took  an  old  packing  box  and  made 
it  look  as  much  like  a  living  Parallelopipedon  as 
he  could.  Then  he  got  into  it  whenever  he 
wanted  to  roam  about  the  world.  Probably  if 
you  will  search  the  castle  you  will  find  the  cast- 
off  shell  he  used  to  wear,  and  if  you  do  I  hope 
you  will  destroy  it,  because  it  is  said  to  be  a  most 
horrible  spectacle — frightening  animals  to  death 
and  causing  every  flower  within  a  mile  to  wither 
and  shrink  up  at  the  mere  sight  of  it." 

"It's  all  true,  Jimmieboy,"  said  the  sprite.  "I 
knew  it  all  along.  Why,  he  only  gave  us  those 
cherries  and  peaches  there  in  exchange  for  your- 
self because  he  expected  to  get  them  all  back 
again,  you  know." 

"It  was  a  glorious  victory,"  said  the  colonel. 
"I  will  now  announce  it  to  the  soldiers." 
This  he  did  and  the  soldiers  were  wild  with  joy 


THE  RESCUE.  189 

when  they  heard  the  news,  and  the  band  played 
a  hymn  of  victory  in  which  the  soldiers  joined, 
singing  so  vigorously  that  they  nearly  cracked 
their  voices.  When  they  had  quite  finished  the 
colonel  said  he  guessed  it  was  time  to  return  to 
the  barracks  in  the  nursery. 

"Not  before  the  feast,*' said  the  sprite.  "We 
have  here  all  the  provisions  the  general  set  out 
to  get,  and  before  you  return  home,  colonel,  you 
and  your  men  should  divide  them  among  you." 

So  the  table  was  spread  and  all  went  happily. 
In  the  midst  of  the  feast  the  major  appeared, 
determination  written  upon  every  line  of  his 
face.  The  soldiers  cheered  him  loudly  as  he 
walked  down  the  length  of  the  table,  which  he 
acknowledged  as  gracefully  as  he  could  with  a 
stiff  bow,  and  then  he  spoke : 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  have  always  been  a 
good  deal  of  a  favorite  with  you,  and  I  know  that 
what  I  am  about  to  do  will  fill  you  with  deep 
grief.  I  am  going  to  stop  being  a  man  of  war. 
The  tremendous  victory  we  have  won  to-day 
is  the  result  entirely  of  the  efforts  of  myself, 
General  Jimmieboy  and  Major  Sprite — for  to  the 
latter  I  now  give  the  title  I  have  borne  so  honor- 
ably for  so  many  years.  Our  present  victory  is 
one  of  such  brilliantly  brilliant  brilliance  that  t 


190          IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

feel  that  I  may  now  retire  with  lustre  enough 
attached  to  my  name  to  last  for  millions  and 
millions  cf  years.  I  need  rest,  and  here  I  shall 
take  it,  in  this  beautiful  valley,  which  by  virtue 
of  our  victory  belongs  wholly  and  in  equal  parts 
to  General  Jimmieboy,  Major  Sprite  and  myself. 
Hereafter  I  shall  be  known  only  as  Mortimer 
Carraway  Blueface,  Poet  Laureate  of  Fortyfore- 
foot  Hall,  Fortyforefoot  Valley,  Pictureland.  As 
Governor-General  of  the  country  we  have  de- 
cided to  appoint  our  illustrious  friend,  Major 
Benjamin  Bludgeonhead  Sprite.  General  Jim- 
mieboy will  remain  commander  of  the  forces, 
and  the  rest  of  you  may  divide  amongst  your- 
selves, as  a  reward  for  your  gallant  services,  all 
the  provisions  that  may  now  be  left  upon  this 
table.  It  is  all  yours.  I  demand  but  one  condition. 
That  is  that  you  do  not  take  the  table.  It  is  of 
solid  mahogany  and  must  be  worth  a  very  con- 
siderable sum. 

Now  let  the  saddest  word  be  said, 
Now  bend  in  sorrow  deep  the  head. 
Let  tears  flow  forth  and  drench  the  dell  : 
Farewell,  brave  soldier  boys,  farewell." 

Here  the  major  wiped  his  eyes  sadly  and  sat 
down  by  the  sprite  who  shook  his  hand  kindly 
and  thanked  him  for  giving  him  his  title  of  major. 


THE  RESCUE.  191 

"  We'll  have  fine  times  living  here  together," 
said  the  sprite. 

"Well,  rather!"  ejaculated  the  major.  "I'm 
going  to  see  if  I  can't  have  myself  made  over 
again,  too,  Spritey.  I'll  be  pleasanter  for  you  to 
look  at.  What's  the  use  of  being  a  tin  soldier  in 
a  place  where  even  the  cobblestones  are  of  gold 
and  silver." 

"You  can  be  plated  any  how,"  said  Jimmie- 
boy. 

"  Yes,  and  maybe  I  can  have  a  platinum  sword 
put  in,  and  a  real  solid  gold  head — but  just  at 
present  that  isn't  what  I  want,"  said  the  major. 
"  What  I  am  after  now  is  a  piece  of  birthday 
cake  with  real  fruit  raisins  in  it  and  strips  of 
citron  two  inches  long,  the  whole  concealed 
beneath  a  one  inch  frosting.  Is  there  any?" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HOME    AGAIN. 

"I  DON'T  think  we  have  any  here,"  said  Jim- 

1  mieboy,  who  was  much  pleased  to  see  the 
sprite  and  the  major,  both  of  whom  he  dearly 
loved,  on  such  good  terms.  "But  I'll  run  home 
and  see  if  I  can  get  some." 

"Well,  we'll  all  go  with  you,"  said  the  colonel, 
starting  up  and  ordering  the  trumpeters  to  sound 
the  call  to  arms. 

"All  except  Blueface  and  myself,"  said  the 
sprite.  "  We  will  stay  here  and  put  everything 
in  readiness  for  your  return." 

"That  is  a  good  idea,"  said  Jimmieboy.  "And 
you'll  have  to  hurry  for  we  shall  be  back  very 
soon." 

This,  as  it  turned  out,  was  a  very  rash  promise 
for  Jimmieboy  to  make,  for  after  he  and  the  tin 
soldiers  had  got  the  birthday  cake  and  were 
ready  to  enter  Pictureland  once  more,  they 
found  that  not  one  of  them  could  do  it,  the  frame 
was  so  high  up  and  the  picture  itself  so  hard  and 


HOME  AGAIN.  193 

impenetrable.  Jimmieboy  felt  so  badly  to  be 
unable  to  return  to  his  friends,  that,  following 
the  major's  hint  about  sleep  bringing  forgetful- 
ness  of  trouble,  he  threw  himself  down  on  the 
nursery  couch,  and  closing  his  brimming  eyes 
dozed  off  into  a  dreamless  sleep. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  opened  them  again 
and  found  himself  still  on  the  couch  with  a  piece 
of  his  papa's  birthday  cake  in  his  hand,  his  sor- 
rows all  gone  and  contentment  in  their  place. 
His  papa  was  sitting  at  his  side,  and  his  mamma 
was  standing  over  by  the  window  smiling. 

"You've  had  a  good  long  nap,  Jimmieboy," 
said  she,  "  and  I  rather  think,  from  several  things 
I've  heard  you  say  in  your  sleep,  you've  been 
dreaming  about  your  tin  soldiers." 

"I  don't  believe  it  was  a  dream,  mamma,"  he 
said,  "it  was  all  too  real."  And  then  he  told  his 
papa  all  that  had  happened. 

"Well,  it  is  very  singular,"  said  his  papa,  when 
Jimmieboy  had  finished,  "and  if  you  want  to 
believe  it  all  happened  you  may ;  but  you  say  all 
the  soldiers  came  back  with  you  except  Major 
Blueface?" 

"Yes,  every  one,"  said  Jimmieboy. 

"  Then  we  can  tell  whether  it  was  true  or  not 
by  looking  in  the  tin  soldier's  box.  If  the  major 


194  IN  CAMP  WITH  A  TIN  SOLDIER. 

•»» 

isn't  there  he  may  be  up  in  Forty  forefoot  castle 
as  you  say." 

Jimmieboy  climbed  eagerly  down  from  the 
couch  and  rushing  to  the  toy  closet  got  out  the 
box  of  soldiers  and  searched  it  from  top  to  bot- 
tom. The  major  was  not  to  be  seen  anywhere, 
nor  to  this  day  has  Jimmieboy  ever  again  set 
eyes  upon  him. 

THE  END. 


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